


Soley, Soley

by dance_in_moonlight



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Around Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Artist Steve Rogers, Avengers Family, Bottom Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Canon Divergence - Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Captain America Steve Rogers, Domestic Avengers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fighting, Flashbacks, Happy Ending, Hydra experiments, M/M, MCU is kind of all over the place, Missions Gone Wrong, Natasha Romanov Is a Good Bro, Old Peggy Carter, Rescue Missions, Sam Wilson is a Gift, Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Stucky - Freeform, Top Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, pre-war stucky
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27312400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dance_in_moonlight/pseuds/dance_in_moonlight
Summary: Steve Rogers is overall fine with the 21st century. He has his friends, he has a job and a purpose. But he misses Bucky. Nobody else knows about their past, so he hides his mourning and tries to deal with it himself.Until one day, he finds out Bucky is alive.Now Steve makes it his mission to get him home and keep him safe, and never, ever let Hydra touch him again.But it's a long process to get through all of the brainwashing and to get Bucky to remember and  trust him again.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Comments: 40
Kudos: 91





	1. Everyday

**Author's Note:**

> Hi and thanks for tuning in!  
> A couple of things before we start:
> 
> 1\. This is my first Ao3 fic. I read a lot on here, but I'm new to posting, so please bear with me if I mess up the formatting or something :D
> 
> 2\. While I've been learning English for almost 17 years now, neither me nor my beta are native speakers, so in case there's weird phrasing or I sliiiightly misuse a word, you know why. It barely happens, I just wanted to explain myself, I swear I proof-read everything a million times.
> 
> 3\. Steve thinks the love of his life is dead. He's obviously sad about it. He'll worry and spiral a bit before we meet Bucky. Hydra hurting Bucky is mentioned, but not described. The word "torture" is in there but again, absolutely no description. I didn't get too deep into it, but if you're easily triggered by that it might not be for you. If we get deeper into that, I will let you know, pinky promise. 
> 
> 4\. This might be a bit heavy on world-building. I promise we'll go much deeper into thoughts and emotions later!
> 
> 5\. Lastly, I will talk about details of this fic and other Marvel/fandom related stuff on [my tumblr](https://dance-in-moonlight.tumblr.com/), so come over if you want!
> 
> Now have fun with the first chapter!

Steve’s least favourite thing about the new century is the lack of politeness.

Back in his day, when he was young and still learning about life, people had behaved a lot more reserved. They knew what was tactful and what wasn’t, when to keep their mouth shut and show a smile instead of saying their opinion. Sure, there had always been rude people, yet the majority he’d known was good-mannered. On radio and tv they had been a lot more aware of which words to say and which were considered inappropriate.

Of course they had censored a lot, but his point remains. His fellow soldiers and friends back in the day had never poked around in his private life or had at least stopped when he told them off.

Unlike Natasha Romanoff.

  
“Just give me  _ something  _ to work with. Come on, Steve. You’re lonely-”

“-and need to get laid”, Clint chimes in from the back of the quinjet where he lies outstretched on one of the benches on the walls, still in his suit, an opened bag of gummy worms in his hand. He likes to treat himself after missions. Steve huffs at his words, but doesn't feel the need to reply, he just wants the conversation to be over. 

“Anyway”, the redhead continues from her co-pilot seat, ignoring her boyfriend, ”I really think it’ll help you with all this.”

She twirls her hand around in the air before she rests it back on her thigh.

Just like Clint and Steve she's wearing her Avenger outfit, slightly ruffled and dusty from the fight. Steve and Clint had taken a few more serious hits, resulting in tears in the gear and a few dark stains they have to take care of later.  Steve doesn't mind, he feels the cut on his rib already healing. A Hydra agent had whipped out a knife in the fight, cut straight through the kevlar of his plain blue stealth suit, tearing the skin beneath in the process. He doesn't give it any more thought, his body will handle all injuries. By the time the jet will land, only a thin red line will remain under a disgusting crust of dried blood. His body cells are always regenerating, making it impossible to leave a scar or a long lasting wound on him.  
Steve adjusts a few switches and presses buttons on the interface of the quinjet from where he sits in the pilot’s seat while Natasha continues her speech, occasionally interrupted by Clint.  When the jet is set on the right course home he switches to autopilot and unfastens his seatbelt, gets up and squeezes past the pilot’s and co-pilot’s seat, leaving Natasha alone in the front of the quinjet.

“- next door or perhaps even in S.H.I.E.L.D., maybe that would be - Steve, are you even listening?”, she asks when the Captain walks up to one of the supply closets in the rear of the vehicle. She turns with the seat, cocking her head as she examines his body language.  Steve acts unimpressed as he retrieves a bottle of water from the closet, holding the door open and turning back to face Clint.

“You want some?”, he asks, shaking the bottle in his left hand a little. His fellow Avenger shakes his head, raising his bag of gummy worms from his chest instead and holding it out for Steve who politely declines.

“Nat?”, Steve asks casually, as if he isn't aware of her analysing every tiny move of his. She's a great spy, but he's not intimidated by her, not in this familiar setting.

“No on both”, she replies, immediately switching back to the previous discussion.

“Why does this make you so uncomfortable?”

Steve takes his time closing the door, turning the simple lock so g-force won’t pull it back open and spill its contents all through the jet. Then he unscrews the cap of the bottle, takes a few greedy gulps of water while he thinks about his answer, before putting it down again. He feels the rush in his chest as the beverage proceeds toward his stomach, cool in his warm body.   
Natasha is way too good of a spy to become impatient, Steve knows her well enough. She could play this game just as well as him.

Eventually he licks his sweat-salty lips, runs a hand through his short blonde hair to push it from his face and sighs. If he gets it over with now, be won't have to worry about it later. 

“I don’t know Nat. I appreciate you trying to help, but…”

He hesitates and looks down, kicks a duffel bag with spare clothes back under the bench next to him. Natasha wants to help, he knows it, but he’d never really  _ asked  _ for it. They all just assume.  
Honestly, Steve is fine. Coming out of the ice had been a shock, a flood of information and emotions and so much confusion. But S.H.I.E.L.D. had helped him adjust, he’d gotten a place to stay, a job and people he could turn to. People he now considers friends. 

Yes, overall Steve is good.

“I really don’t mean to sound rude”, he tries again, sinking down on the bench just a tiny bit exhausted, “it’s kind of you. But I’m not looking for anyone right now. I have lots of work, I have my art, and lots of things to catch up with.”

“And us”, Clint croaks from the opposite bench, half asleep by now if his half-lidded eyes are any indication. It's kind of adorable. 

“Right, and you guys”, Steve agrees with a warm chuckle. 

“That’s one side. And the other...I’m sorry, but I don’t think this is any of your business, Nat. I said no after the first time, that should have been enough.”

Steve hates to say it, because there is no way to make it sound nice, but there really is no way around it and he knows he's right. He looks up to see her reaction to his words, fearing she’s disappointed or mad at him for being brutally honest with her. To his surprise, none of that is the case.  
Natasha sits in her chair, suit covered arms crossed in front of her chest. Her head tilts slightly forward so her brows shadow her eyes, and her mouth and nose begin to scrunch up in a grimace.

The Black Widow is  _ pouting _ .

Steve bites back a grin and tilts his head too, inviting her to say something in return. She's silent for a few seconds, considering his words and perhaps rethinking her actions. 

“I’m sorry. I really thought I was helping, that you were just shy. But if you feel like that...I’ll stop. Forgive me?”, she asks sweetly, now putting on an innocent face so real that Steve almost buys it. He doubts that this is the end of the whole discussion.

“Of course I do.”

He shoots her another smile, then reaches down into the duffel bag beneath the bench to retrieve a StarkPad, putting down the bottle he's still holding next to him. While the others are tired or weakened by injuries after missions and take naps, Steve often uses the flight back for work. He goes through files from a different mission, communicates with S.H.I.E.L.D. for news or begins to write the report for the current mission.  
He has just opened the communication service to inform Tony and the others about the events of the mission when Natasha interrupts him again.

“I just don’t understand it. I mean, you’re just human, you must have-”

“Tasha”, Clint chimes in from his improvised bed - Steve is surprised that he isn't asleep yet - “Steve’s a big boy. I’d love to see him with a gal, but he’s right. It’s not our business. He knows himself best.”

From his new position Steve can see the blankets and clothes his friend lies on, like an oversized bird in a makeshift nest. He decides not to comment on Clint's words. 

“Ugh, fine! I’ll stop, I promise. Keep doing whatever you’re doing, I’m keeping an eye on the controls.”

She doesn't sound mad or frustrated, so Steve relaxes in his seat and reactivates the StarkPad in his hands, typing a message to the fellow Avengers to let them know they're coming home before he begins to write out the report.

_________________________   
  


They land at S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters around four in the afternoon, leaving the jet to a bunch of engineers and employees who immediately begin a system check and clean the vehicle for its next mission.  
Steve leads his team into the building, past a few unnecessary stern looking guards, through the large entry hall and towards the glass elevator. They squeeze in and Steve punches in the code for the classified floor with Coulson’s, Hill’s and Fury’s offices. There are always plenty of employees offering to take the files - and whatever else the team has brought from missions - up to the director and the other superiors, but Steve had quickly established that he likes to deliver them himself, for safety. He still has trust issues, it always has to be him or a team member. 

Especially since only a month ago they had discovered moles in the agency.

Steve frowns as the elevator lifts them up the tall tower, remembering the awfully familiar feeling of not knowing who to trust. It had been painful and exhausting, but everyone had stuck to new security protocols, even the Avengers with each other and the employees with their superiors. The Avengers had eventually assessed each other as innocent and trustworthy, and once the same was true for Hill and Coulson they had moved on with trying to out the Hydra agents. Trusting Fury had been much more of a challenge, since most of them had viewed him competent but never really trusted him in the first place. But their team - welded together after the New York incident - along with some of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s best agents had finally discovered every last of Hydra’s moles and hunted them down. Most of them. Steve's jaw flexes and invites a grim expression to his face. Some of them fled, and they're still hunting them. Today they found a small base, a few dozen agents. It's not over, but S.H.I.E.L.D. is clean. 

The  _ ping _ of the elevator shakes him out of the memory, and when the doors open he struts out and down the corridor, along the grey stone tiles and cream coloured walls.  They stop at Fury’s door and knock, wait for a few seconds. The director is rarely in his office, but when he is, he always gives some kind of reply even when he is busy.  Since that is not the case, the trio turns to approach Coulson’s door instead. This time, they're immediately asked inside. He's always there after missions in case Fury is not, so even on this sunday afternoon he patiently waits at his desk. Sometimes Steve is astounded by the love Coulson has for his job and his country.   
They greet him politely and Steve puts the StarkPad down on the desk - Tony had generously gifted S.H.I.E.L.D. a bunch of them to make their work easier - and answers Coulson’s remaining questions, with Clint and Natasha filling in what he misses.  
Once it's established that none of them are seriously injured and nothing out of the ordinary has happened they are allowed to go.

The next time the elevator stops on its way back down it's on the fifth floor, which contains several training rooms, S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medical department and showers.

The team stashes their ripped and dirty armor in cupboards and then takes quick showers, the whole process routined and efficient.

S.H.I.E.L.D. employees will later collect the suits, clean out any blood and dirt and fix them in as little time as possible. The suits remain at the headquarters, there are other versions at the tower in New York. After all, the Avengers always need to be ready for an emergency, wherever they are.

____________

Jarvis greets them politely as they enter the Avengers Tower and head to the elevator. The AI gives an update on what has happened in their absence - nothing important - before commanding the elevator to drop them at one of the community floors.

The tower has ninety-three floors.

The ground level consists of a large lobby with a front desk, several seating areas and a security office as well as the entrance to the elevators and the - rarely used - stairwell. Above that is Bruce’s floor. After Tony had invited them to live together, for work reasons, Bruce had requested a low floor in case the Hulk came to visit. Because of that the four next floors contain all the laboratories for Bruce's experiments, still as far down as possible. 

After the sixth floor follows a large section of work floors, 61 exactly. They contain countless meeting rooms, labs for physicists, engineers and mathematicians who all work for Tony. Steve has never been there, he only knows this from descriptions. 

There are computer pools and a few floors especially for Avengers work, like briefing rooms and a medical department.

Those are followed by five public floors, 68-72, in which large parties, galas or ball nights are held whenever Tony feels like it or there is a special event. Included is a big cafeteria for the employees and visitors, as well as waiting rooms for clients with an appointment or employees’ family members who wait to see their relatives during a break. Obviously the public floors are swarmed with cameras and security guards who are briefed weekly by Happy Hogan himself.  
When Steve had first gotten to know Happy he had thought of him as grumpy and quiet, always sticking to Tony and refusing to interact with the others.  Once they’d warmed up though Steve had realised that the head of security had been protective of his friend and boss, wanting to assess the team properly before relaxing around them. He is incredibly thorough and furthermore great at his job. Even though he has employees beneath him, he does a lot of the work personally and checks in with every department daily. He had also been the one to ensure the living quarters of the team were especially private and protected, and he does everything he can to chime in on security during S.H.I.E.L.D. missions. 

Steve holds a great amount of respect for him and his determination.

On their ride in the elevator they pass the ten guest floors - floor 73-82 - that follow the public ones. Steve has never stepped foot into those, he only knows they are filled with dozens of apartments.  Sometimes Scott, Darcy or some other heroes come over and stay in one of those. Steve has lost count, there is a team in space and some guy running through Hell’s Kitchen, and they find new heroes almost monthly. Other times they hold party guests, since Tony’s parties often require a place to stay - anyone partaking in those can’t be trusted to step out on a sidewalk for several hours afterwards. Whether it be because of booze or exhaustion.  
He remembers the last christmas party when lots of employees had brought their families along, he had loved to see the excitement of all those normal people’s faces when confronted with the amount of luxury Tony Stark preferred. Steve had found it grounding, it reminded him of his first reaction and how all of that still sometimes overwhelms him. 

The following floors are once more specially secured and require a special code only the Avengers and a handful of important employees know. They belong entirely to the Avengers team.

Floor 83 holds two badminton fields and a larger basketball court.

The whole 84th floor is the fight simulator, a huge room with reinforced, tiled walls and not a single window or piece of furniture. Next to the door is a small interface on which the team can put together a scenario or certain aspects of it, which Jarvis will then simulate for them. They use it about two times a week to practice their teamwork under realistic and stressful circumstances.

Floor 85: gym and shooting range

Floor 86: big pool and spa

Steve had barked out a laugh of disbelief when he’d first been introduced to the spa - Tony had pouted - but after Clint and Sam had urged him to try out the massages or a hot stone treatment he’d included it into his routine. Now he goes once a week to get his muscles taken care of. His body heals quickly, but he isn't quite immune to tension.

Floor 87 is where the elevator stops, opens its doors to reveal the big group lounge. It's Steve’s favourite of all floors, as a former Captain and soldier he loves to be just in the middle of the action, surrounded by his team members. They often come together after bad news or a rough mission, either talking it out or just dispersing around the room and quietly enjoying the others’ company.

The remaining floors above them are personal living quarters.

88: Wanda

89: Sam

90: Tony - it's his tower, after considering each Avenger’s personal preferences he still wants a good view.

91: Steve - again, he likes to be in the middle of his troops and Tony knows that.

92: Clint and Natasha - Clint is a marksman and works best when observing from above, so he feels good in high places. And Nat loves the view.

93: Thor, finally - he is often busy in other worlds, so landing on the roof was the easiest option.

Steve, Clint and Nat enter the lounge where the rest of their team is scattered around. That's usually the case after longer missions - they’d been away for three days - to make sure their teammates are fine. It's silently agreed upon, one of the little habits they picked up on the way of becoming a family. 

Next to the elevator, on the right side, is a large open kitchen with a long breakfast bar and plenty of space to fit the whole team. Each of them has their own kitchen on their floor, but when they have time they cook together or hold private parties, requiring a kitchen on the shared floor.  A large dining table is right next to that, also long enough to fit the team and even some guests if necessary. It's made of dark and heavy wood, no doubt as expensive as a good car.  
On the opposite side is a giant tv mounted to the wall, with several couches and beanbags in front of it, as well as a dark wooden coffee table to hold snacks during movie nights. It's an infamous rumor that the ‘Earth’s mightiest Heroes’ have movie nights, but now and then they actually find the time and headspace for it.  
The rest of the floor is covered with thick throw carpets, arcade machines and armchairs that are arranged in groups. It's cosy but allows them to separate a bit while still enjoying the others’ company. Steve loves it, and the remaining tension falls off his shoulders as he takes it all in. 

Clint grins at Steve and nods over to Bruce, who sits at the long table with a laptop and an opened notebook next to it. He seems to be submerged in his work, even on a Sunday, eyes quickly darting over the screen before grabbing a pen and writing something in the notebook, then goes back to typing and repeating the process. Steve appreciates the obvious fact that Bruce has taken his work upstairs in order to greet them along with the others.  He watches Nat walk over and sit down next to him, eyeing his work curiously. They get along great, and when they have enough time Bruce spends hours explaining concepts to her. Their dynamic is a little peculiar to Steve, but he is happy that they found something to bond over.  Clint is already by the fridge, no doubt searching for the most sugary lemonade before heading over to a group of armchairs where Tony and - to Steve’s delight - Thor are sitting over something on a StarkPad Tony holds. 

“Thor”, he greets enthusiastically as he walks over to the pair, “I haven’t seen you in ages! How are you, pal?”

The Asgardian looks up when he hears his voice, beaming when he sees his friend approach. 

“Captain! I’m great, Asgard is doing well and since my father has nothing to do for me, I’ll be residing with the team for a while”, he booms.

“That’s great news! I’m sure earth will keep you occupied just fine, we’ve been on missions almost weekly for three months now”, Steve replies with a grimace as he sinks down in the armchair next to his foreign friend. Clint slides into another one, curling up and sipping his soda quietly.

“While I’m hurt that I didn’t get such an excited greeting”, Tony intervenes and shoots the captain a lopsided grin - their friendship is another unique dynamic - , “I agree. We could use some hammer-swinging in the world. How’s Hydra, Capsicle?”

Steve leans back in the chair and shakes his head, he isn't in the mood to recount the events of the mission. He just wants to relax with his team.

“Ah I see. Well, I call pizza night then, you’ve probably lived off of packaged food for three days, Yuck. We should - ah”, he interrupts, looking at the elevator door, “Wingman and Wonder Woman arrived.”

Indeed Sam and Wanda enter the floor and make their way over to their group.

"Wouldn't miss the party", Sam smirks and gives Steve a pat on the back before settling in with them.

Eventually Nat, Wanda and Bruce come over as well, and the rest of the night is spent comfortably chatting and laughing while devouring unholy amounts of delivered pizza.


	2. Dream Lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a dream, Sam is a good friend and Steve decides to meet someone from his past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will merge some chapters together. I can't put you through so many words with so little Bucky. The faster we meet Bucky, the faster we can start the pining and longing ;)
> 
> I haven't decided on a posting schedule yet. I start my new semester next week, that will probably dictate when I can write and post. I'll let you know!
> 
> Again, come [visit me on tumblr](https://dance-in-moonlight.tumblr.com/)!

Steve sits on his favourite space by the docks in Brooklyn Heights, an opened sketchbook in his lap and a charcoal pencil in his hand, fingertips coated in black dust. He squeezes his eyes together to watch the skyline of lower Manhattan with its high buildings, shining in the afternoon sun. He absent mindedly wonders what has gotten him to come down here. He can't remember for some reason, but it doesn't matter.  Usually Steve sticks to Manhattan these days, avoiding about every part of Brooklyn he’d spent his youth in. There are too many memories, too many lost lives. He has told his new friends that he is fine with the situation, that he doesn't feel like he belongs somewhere else, but he still misses his family and friends. He can handle when occasionally something reminds him of Sarah or Peggy, and he's fine with talking about the old times when he's asked.  
But physically being in the same street he used to play catch in - or more likely, have an asthma attack  _ trying  _ to play catch - and seeing how much has just vanished is too much. He isn't quite there yet.

Steve shakes the thought off and focuses back on his sketch. He includes the Brooklyn Bridge on the far right side of the drawing, then begins to draw reflections into the water surface. It's a simple motive, but he can use the practise. And it helps him relax, take his mind off of things. 

“That car looks funny”, a voice behind him points out. Steve doesn't twitch, just frowns and looks at the drawing, then up at the real thing. Indeed there are cars from the 1930’s roaming the streets along with modern ones. Weird.

“It’s good though. As always.” The person giggles, and Steve freezes.

He knows that voice. How has he not noticed until now?  That laugh...he’d recognise it anywhere. That laugh has made his blood sing so many times in his youth.  
He grimaces for a second before he slowly forces his head upwards, turning it to the person standing behind his left shoulder. His jaw's pressed together so hard it hurts as he tries his best for a controlled expression.

“You look like you saw a ghost. What’s wrong, pal?”, the young man asks, his head cocked and his baby blue eyes focused on him.

Steve gets distracted for a moment, staring into them. They are so bright, how can eyes be so bright? His own are a darker, more common shade of blue. But those...they look soft and kind and so unique. Like water from a shallow lagoon, or the sky on its best days. 

“Steve?” A frown now appears on the other’s face and he steps around to face Steve fully, sinking to his knees in front of him to level their eyes.

His short brown hair curls naturally at the top, the way Steve has always loved it. He wants to run his hands through, hold on and never let go. The man's face is smooth and soft, contrasted by the sharp jawline, the last of his baby fat is slowly growing out. He's wearing an army uniform, olive or khaki or something in between. It fits him perfectly, accentuating his broad shoulders.  It's the same uniform he’d worn when he shipped out back in 1943. All of him is still the same, a perfect memory. Steve wants to weep, to curl up and drown in his tears. 

“You shouldn’t be here, Buck”, he presses out, his voice distorted and somewhat shaky, “you  _ can’t  _ be here.”

Bucky only tilts his head more, a small smile on his beautiful face as if he doesn't know whether his opposite is serious or not. So he reaches out and takes Steve’s hand in his, gentle as if scared to break it, kisses its back and then wraps both of his own around it.

“I am here, ain’t I?”, he asks playfully, “and I kinda expected a different greeting. I’m back, isn’t that great?”

Steve swallows, his throat is dry and his eyes are burning. It's painfully obvious how unreal this is, yet it feels as real as ever. Bucky's warm and soft and even  _ smells _ like he used to. He looks so young - he  _ would  _ be so young. If Steve had stayed and Bucky had lived. His subconscious is a sadist.

“Buck”, he murmurs, not even embarrassed when his voice breaks. If this is a dream, which it most certainly is, he's alone. Nobody to witness him, so why be embarrassed?

“You’re...not real. You died, Bucky. I watched -...I  _ let  _ you die.” 

The statement is cruel, subjective, but to Steve it is real as ever. He believes it, he knows deep in his core that it had been his fault.

Bucky’s smile falters.

“What? But”, he begins, then looks down where Steve is staring at his uniform. Then back up at their modern surroundings, the blurry outlines of the city where Steve’s dream ends.

“I don’t remember. Are you sure?”

Steve nods, sniffling quietly and avoiding his eyes. This is horrible. He wants out, he wants this to stop. He doesn't notice the tears rolling down his cheeks until Bucky speaks again.

“Hey, sh shhh. It’s okay, Stevie”, he coos and pets his hand in an attempt to calm him down. 

_ Stevie. _

Memories slam into his brain with the force of a train.

Long nights when he’d been sick and bedridden, Bucky by his side, watching him and whispering sweet words to soothe him.

Bucky holding him and kissing his temple when he’d been beaten up again, telling him  _ ‘it’s gonna be okay, Stevie’ _ .

Bucky whispering  _ ‘I love you Stevie, so much’ _ into his ear over and over during their first time, entangled in Steve’s narrow bed on a hot night in July.

His vision blurs, and he feels arms wrapping around him and pulling him into a warm, familiar hug as he lets go and cries.

  
  


When Steve wakes up, he doesn't scream in terror or jolt violently like in the movies.

He just lies there on his left side, heart racing, clutching a pillow to his chest. He has to blink the tears away to see the faint light of the city coming through the curtain, and the chilly feeling on his cheeks indicates how much he’s cried in his sleep.  
He’d honestly thought he was good, was over it. Not like he’d ever forget Bucky, his first and only love. His best friend and soulmate who’d given him so much through all the years.  If he ever wants to live a normal life again, he has to take care of this issue. He’d loved Bucky, he still does and always will, but he needs to move on or it’ll destroy him. He can't spend the rest of his life mourning and living in his sad little bubble.

Bucky wouldn’t want that.

A little wave of anger washes over him. He has been doing great, no tears or bad dreams in over three months. But of course, now that he is starting to get better, his stupid brain has to intervene again.

_____________________

Sam pushes a mug of coffee in front of him. Steve looks up with a weak smile, grabs the mug and wraps his hands around it.  The team is gathering in the community lounge, another one entering each time the elevator stops at the floor. It's Monday 8.26 am, they will go over the plan for the week at 8.30.  
Sam slides into the chair next to Steve, leaning in toward him.

“Hey man”, he says quietly, “you okay? Did something happen during the mission?”

Steve scans the room quickly: Clint and Wanda sit on the other side of the table, Thor is getting coffee from the kitchen and the others aren't there yet. Nobody pays attention.

“Nothing out of the ordinary. Why do you ask?”, he replies just as quietly, examining his friend's face. Sam looks honestly concerned about something. He reaches out and carefully taps his index finger on the knuckles of Steve’s left hand, which is still wrapped around the mug. The touch stings a bit on the bruised, chapped skin. Drops of blood have already dried into scabs, in an hour the skin will be fine again.

“You heal way too fast for this to be from yesterday. Means you got that while boxing your anger out in the middle of the night again”, Sam concludes.

Steve puffs up his cheeks, holding the air for a few seconds while he thinks about what answer to give Sam. 

He can't lie, Sam knows him too well and deserves better. He can’t tell the truth either. Steve isn't out yet, neither to his friends nor the world. It isn't that he doesn't trust them, but since he hasn’t dated anyone in this century, they’d ask about past relationships. Then he’d have to confess about Bucky, and that would bring him all those pitiful looks he hates and they’d treat him like something made of glass. Poor, broken Steve.  
No thanks. 

He’ll go with a half-truth, he decides, just leaving some details out.

“Thanks for worrying, Sam”, he smiles, “I’m good. You’re right, I was up early. Had a bad dream about the past and couldn’t shake it off.”

Only his iron will prevents him from shuddering at the memory.  Even with his strong will it had taken Steve thirty minutes of crying until he had gotten up and into the gym, and then two good hours of boxing to get his frustration out.  He also had added five minutes at the end of his shower to spray his face with enough ice cold water to de-puff his eyes.  
But Sam doesn't need to know.

His friend nods next to him, retrieves his hand and scratches the side of his head. He seems to think about something, and Steve gives him time by slowly sipping his coffee and letting his eyes wander through the room. He notices that the team is now complete and they are one by one getting coffee from the kitchen before coming over.

“You know”, Sam eventually speaks up again, “I can still connect you with Dr. Walker. “

Ah, Sam’s former  psychologist . In the past Sam had offered to fix him an appointment a few times, but never pressured.

“Look, I know it’s not quite the same thing, but when I came back from the war everything had changed a lot. I was frustrated, traumatized and confused. It was hard to get back into a normal routine, but I noticed my struggles and got professional help. It’s normal these days, Steve.” His voice is calm and reassuring.    
“She is really good. She doesn’t judge you, she doesn’t just put you on meds, and she’s under oath to protect your privacy. I’m not gonna force you, but I really think it’s worth a shot. And you're always welcome at the VA, of course.”

Steve stares into his coffee, wondering why his reflection looks so sad and exhausted. Does he look like that? No, it must be the weird angle or his brain messing with him.  He sighs and looks up.

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll consider it, yeah?”, he replies vaguely with an honest smile. Although he still feels weird about seeing a professional, he appreciates Sam’s honest concern. And the fact that he makes sure to keep those conversations private, never risking someone else hearing it.

“What’re you chatting about?”, Tony chimes in from the head of the table to Steve’s left, leaning forward to try and hear what they mumble. Steve just shakes his head and waves his hand.

“Nothing, Tony.”  He brushes off the thoughts about psychologists and former lovers to get in the mindset of the semi-formal team meeting instead.

“Since I didn’t receive any schedules I take it that you’re briefing us today?”, he asks Tony with slightly raised brows. He doesn't mind, Tony is just as competent as him, but usually the others leave important stuff like that to their informal leader.

“Yeah, I got a data dump last night around 5 and didn’t want to go through it all to send it over. I should get an  intern or something”, the engineer replies with a yawn, to which Steve cocks his head curiously.

“Does ‘last night around 5’ stand for 5 am in Tony speak?”

His opposite groans in reply and rubs his face one handed in an attempt to chase away sleepiness.

“Jesus Tony, did you sleep at all?”, Steve continues. He only needs between 4 and 6 hours of sleep every few days to stay alive, 4 a day to heal properly. Still, he grants himself 6 hours every day.

Tony often sleeps less than that or not at all, and he isn't infused with super serum. It's a wonder he hasn't developed a heart disease yet.

“2 hours. Cute of you to worry about me, Capsicle”, he teases before straightening up in his stance and looking down the table where the whole team has gathered by now.

“Listen up, guys. Hope you had a nice weekend - except Cap, Nat and Birdboy of course. We’ve got a busy week ahead of us-”

“Old news!”, Clint interrupts, “I just wanna have a chill week for once!”

Tony ignores him and unlocks the StarkPad in front of him, types something and continues his speech.

“I just sent each of you an overview. You know the drill, take notes.”

The rest of the team opens the corresponding program on their StarkPads and skims the page before returning their attention to Tony.

“After this I need Bruce in the labs. Sam, Nat and Wanda have a date with Hill at 11 on floor 42. Room’s in your schedule.“

Wanda grabs a stylus from the side of the pad and makes a note on the screen.  Tony continues going over their schedules, occasionally interrupted by a teammate for a question.   
Steve has a meeting with a local  high school's principal next week on Wednesday for some  campaign he forgot about, and he makes a note to call them today for details. He likes to be prepared for meetings as best as he can.  There are two group training sessions and a big S.H.I.E.L.D. meeting for everyone, but Tony has no further information on its contents. The rest of the week is filled with little things, some of them have to meet Pepper for PR reasons and almost all of them have one or two missions scattered over the week, preparation briefings included.  It will be a busy week, but nothing out of the ordinary. It could have been way worse.

“Alright folks”, Tony finishes after everyone’s questions are answered, barely half an hour after the beginning.    
“Consider yourselves informed. Go off and do your things, we’ll see each other at training.”

He turns off his StarkPad and tucks it under his arm, the others get up as well and are already heading to the elevator.

“Oh, and by the way”, Tony adds,  “I’ve had some engineers upgrade the whirlpool on floor 86. In case some of you have a free minute.”

________________________

Sam and Steve stay behind, gathering and washing everyone’s mugs.  Steve is about to consider how to use his free day when Sam turns to him again, speaking with caution in his voice.

“So...you want me to give you the number?”, he asks, looking down at the white mug he was cleaning.

“Sorry?”

“Dr. Walker’s office”, Sam explains and puts the mug into the cupboard with the other ones, then closes its door and hangs up the dish towel next to the fridge.

Steve bites on the tip of his tongue as he thinks about it once more. It's definitely weird and new to him, but then again Sam has said it’d helped him back then. And he is right, nowadays mental issues are considered way more important than in Steve’s day. Nobody will know if he doesn't tell anyone else. And hasn’t he told himself how much he wants to get over all this? He needs a clear head for work.  
And even if he would change his mind it wouldn’t hurt to just take the number from Sam. It's worth a shot.

“Actually, yeah. I think I’d like to give that a try” , he replies with a hesitant smile.

Sam nods and reaches out to pat his shoulder brotherly.

“It’s gonna help you, I’m confident”, he says and grabs a notepad to scribble the number on.

_______________________

A few days later Steve finishes a mission in D.C. and decides to visit a friend.

He carries a bouquet of lilac brimmed white carnations, holding it against his body as he jogs up the stairs to the nursing home.  
The lady at the front desk blushes like everytime Steve comes in, bruised as he is, and clears him for a walk after he’s asked in a silky voice. Sometimes his attractiveness comes in handy, the post-fight injuries are an added bonus. He follows the familiar path of yellow linoleum through the building, past many private rooms and a few common ones. Some elderly residents have gathered to play chess or enjoy a tea and a chat, but the majority of them are in the garden enjoying the last warm autumn days between the flowers and trees. Steve retrieves a wheelchair on his way and brings it along.  
After a short knock on her door, he hears Peggy’s familiar voice invite him in, and he quickly enters the room. Some of the tension in his chest vanishes as he steps in and looks at her. He’s visited her on multiple occasions since he had been thawed, she had only been lucid five out of those ten times. It had been unbearable to see her confused, not recognising him. Nevertheless he has continued to push himself to see her after his mission in Washington D.C. 

She is the only one left of his former friends.

"Such a nice day and you decide to spend it with an old woman", Peggy says from her bed. Steve turns his head and meets her kind eyes, the same he had known back in the army. 

"Nonsense, I love to be with you. “

He gives her his kindest smile, pushes the wheelchair behind the door and walks over. On the nightstand is a vase with yellow roses, but instead of getting another he decides to just add the flowers he brought in. He arranges them for a few seconds, then carefully sits on the edge of her bed and studies her expression. 

“How are you, Peg?" 

"I can't complain", she replies and reaches out for Steve's hand. He allows her to take it and tilts his head a little. “Thank you for the flowers, dear. They’re pretty.”

“The complementary colours go well together, don’t they?”, he replies looking at the yellow and purple. Peggy chuckles and pats his hand lightly.

“To see the world through an artist’s eyes…”

"How about we take a stroll around the neighborhood, hm? The sun is up, this might be the last good week before it gets cold and rainy", he suggests carefully, knowing very well that even just sitting in a wheelchair for thirty minutes could become too exhausting for her. 

"Steve", she smirks, "you've been flirting with Ms. Lewis at the counter again, haven't you?" 

Steve only grins wider at the accusation, shrugs and raises his unoccupied hand in defense. 

"I just asked her if I could go for a walk! I can't help it if she likes what she sees", he replies. Peggy brings out his purest, happiest side. The little shit from Brooklyn who had been a pain in the ass. Another reason why he loves to visit her. She knows damn well that he’s not the way the world likes to see him.

"Not that you'd care", she teases, earning a blush from Steve. Of course she knows and she'd been fine with it from the beginning. She's the only one he'd told everything back in the day, and most times she remembers. 

"Hey, I think it's fair to use my tricks for a walk with my best girl."

Steve gently rubs the back of her hand and then gets up. 

"You wanna?" 

Peggy looks him up and down once, then down at herself. She seems to think for a bit, perhaps assessing her physical condition before nodding.  Steve helps her put on shoes and a jacket. He knows Peggy is too proud to receive too much help, but she allows him to give a hand with the things she can't handle herself anymore. He rolls the wheelchair up to her bed and carefully lifts her into it, then adjusts the backrest and the headrest until it is comfortable for her. Finally he tucks a blanket around her legs before he straightens up again.

“Okay, are you good?”

Peggy noddy and folds her hands in her lap as Steve pushes the chair out of the room and toward the front door.

“Where’d you like to go?”, he continues to ask as they pass the room with the chess players.

“Somewhere with trees would be nice”, she replies quietly from her seat.

After repeatedly promising Ms. Lewis at the front desk that he will not be away for more than thirty minutes and promising to keep his phone close in case they’ll be called back, they are finally allowed to leave.  Steve follows the sidewalk around a few corners once he has decided which park he’ll take Peggy to. Luckily her nursing home is close to a few green spots in the city, it won't take him too long to get her there.

"She's probably fainting over your number right now", Peggy teases when they reach the outskirts of the park.  Steve rolls his eyes and pushes her over toward a park bench, where he secures the wheelchair and sits down so they can face each other.  He feels Peggy watch him as he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of forest air.

“You look terrible”, she states after a few seconds. When Steve opens his eyes again she has a concentrated expression on her face, as if she is solving a difficult puzzle.

“I just came straight from a mission. My flight home goes in ninety minutes”, he explains, gesturing to the scratches on his hands and what feels like a bruise on his jaw.

“You know”, she teases, “back in my day we weren’t injured on every mission. Whenever I see you on tv, you’re beaten up. Maybe you are bad at your job.”

Then she looks serious again.

“But that’s not what I mean.”

Steve gives her a lopsided smile and shakes his head slowly.

“Maybe I lost some of my bite”, he replies, and it comes out sadder than he had intended. The last thing he wants is to worry Peggy. She shouldn’t have to be there for Steve, instead he wants to be there for her. He can figure his own stuff out later.

“There, that’s what I mean. What is that?”, she asks in a demanding tone.    
For a second it feels like Steve is back in the army, those first days when he was still little and weak and this gorgeous woman had taught him and his companions discipline. 

Good old times.

“Steve?”

He shakes off the thought and focuses on her, cocking his head as if he doesn't understand what she means.  She raises her eyebrows and gestures at his face before she speaks again.

“You’re...off. Not even the war had you look that defeated. Last time I saw you like that was when you sat in the rain after your show, I think you were sketching.”

A fond warmth sneaks into her voice as she thinks about that old memory. 

“You remember?”, he asks quietly. For him it had been a handful of years, for her it must feel like an eternity.

“Yes, though not as much as I want to. They say it’s getting worse, you know”, she trails off, her fingers locking in her lap as she lets out a little sigh.

“But that’s the way it goes, I guess.”

“Oh...Peggy, I’m so -”

“None of that, we’re talking about you now”, she cuts him off.   
“Why do you look like someone stole your favourite toy?”

He swallows and looks down where his forearms rest on his thighs, hands hanging in between. At some point he must have locked them, because now they're cramped together and slightly sweaty.

“I...missed you.”

“ _ Steve _ ”, she demands in her ‘no-bullshit’ voice, “what happened? Don’t lie to me, please.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

He scratches his neck as he lifts his head, still not looking her in the eye.

“I had a bad dream. I thought I was okay with everything now, I like most of what has changed...I have friends, I still have you, but…”

“But you don’t have  _ him _ , do you?”, she finishes for him, her voice almost unbearably soft.

“I know what it’s like, you know. My husband died a few years ago. But you’re still so young” - Steve winces - “you need to give yourself time. It will get better, Steve, and in a while you will only think about the happy memories.”

She reaches out and puts her thin hand on his thigh, squeezing slightly. He gently grabs her hand and holds it, nodding slowly.

“Okay.”

“I promise you eventually it will all be fine. Just wait and see”, she adds warmly and Steve finally looks at her again.

“He’d want you to.”


	3. See you later, Alligator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve attends an uncomfortable meeting with his teammates, who are catching up on his inner storm. They leave for a mission, and Steve's world turns upside down when he finds out who he's hunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back you guys!  
> Thank you for everyone who left kudos and comments, your feedback really means the world to me. I'm glad you liked it so far!  
> Once again I put two chapters together, because we really need some more Bucky in here, right?
> 
> In this chapter the team talks about Hydra recreating the serum and trying it out on subjects. In case you're uncomfortable with that I put a "#" at the beginning and "##" at the end of the worst part, in case you want to skip.  
> I still haven't decided which day I'll post on in the future, but I'll let you know when I decide.
> 
> As always, come talk to me on [my tumblr](https://dance-in-moonlight.tumblr.com/)!

Three weeks after Steve’s D.C. mission and his visit to Peggy he’s called in for a meeting with no other information than that it’s urgent.  
He enters one of the private meeting rooms two minutes early on a Tuesday afternoon, still slightly confused about the time and place. Usually S.H.I.E.L.D. meetings are held in different rooms or at the HQ, and Avengers meetings would have been previously discussed.  
The second thing that unsettles him was that when he first enters the whole team turns towards him, having gathered in a corner of the room in a discussion that dies the second Steve steps out of the elevator. His Cap sense starts to tingle on the base of his skull.

Something is very, very wrong.

Steve steps in the room, immediately sensing more of the negative energy coming from the team. For some reason the hairs on his nape stand up and he tenses, as if his body is deciding on a fight or flight response.

“What is going on here?”, Cap asks. Steve has retreated to somewhere in the back of his mind, pushed away by Captain America the second he had noticed the seriousness.

The team is quiet, sharing glances with each other but avoiding his eyes.

“Why are you looking like something horrible happened?”

No answer. 

“Jesus Christ, will you talk to me? Did somebody die?”

That seems to get through, since the group dissolves and they place themselves around the table as Natasha shakes her head and looks at him apologetically.

“Sorry, we are just dealing with a complicated situation and nobody really knows what to do.”

Cap nods and sits down between Wanda and Sam, eyes fixed on Natasha and Tony who remain standing. He assumes they are about to fill him in on what he has missed.

“Alright, please listen ‘till the end before you go nuts, yes?”, Tony starts in his usual cocky tone. He can tell it’s fake, Tony’s drumming his fingers against his outer thigh and his eyes are darting around the room before they focus on Steve again.

Cap frowns.

“Why would I ‘go nuts’? Tony, what is this about?”

The engineer turns to Natasha, raising his shoulders slightly.

“Are we sure about this? We could just -”

“Tony!”, he interrupts and leans forward, “stop that. I want to know why this meeting was scheduled last minute, what it is about and why you guys look like somebody is holding your families at gunpoint. Talk to me.”

He notices a few teammates looking down at the table, others fiddle with their fingers or clasp both hands around their coffee mugs. Nobody but Natasha meets his gaze, even Tony is looking down again.

“It’s last minute because this is only semi-official and S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t send anyone to do this”, she begins quietly, but her voice is steady.

“Why -”

“Let me finish, Steve. You remember how a few weeks ago I had a briefing with Sam and Wanda?”

She watches him expectantly, so he nods. He vaguely remembers the fact, but he can’t recall details. Sam shifts in his seat next to him, but he doesn’t check to see why.

“Good. We were sent to gather intel on Hydra in an abandoned base. It was completely empty on every floor above the ground, but after some searching I found an entrance to a basement. We’re pretty sure it was hidden on purpose and they felt good about it because once we made it downstairs, we discovered everything was left behind. Sam thought they digitised everything and didn’t bother destroying the originals because they didn’t think someone would actually ever find it. I think they meant to come back but we got them before that”, she shrugs.

Cap wonders why exactly that’s important, but he remains quiet and waits for Natasha to finish. There must be a point.

“We found a lot of shit down there. Some of it we already knew, some was new. We got info on other hideouts, people, weapons, tactics, ressources, connections, experiments -”

“Nat”, Sam interrupts, “he gets it.”

Her head turns towards him with a frown, then back at Cap. He raises a brow at her and she nods, straightening up.

“Yeah, sorry. So after that, Tony told us…”

She stops and looks over at the mentioned teammate. Tony nods and continues the story.

“Hill asked me to write an algorithm to categorise the data after feeding it in, and I did. Totally easy, I could do that in my sleep. So, when the program was running and reading the data -  it still is, by the way \- I looked through some files and found names and accords that were pretty...interesting. Um, so I got Nat in and she took a look at it, and we sat down and pieced some stuff together.”

Tony waits a second, looking at Cap as if to make sure he’s following. He nods, and Tony continues.

“Okay. So they ran experiments on people, we know that now. Some of them were way more advanced than we thought, and way more durable.”

He types something on his StarkPad, then puts it on a table and reveals a holographic screen on which he pulls up a picture.

#  
Cap leans in to examine it. It seems to be a chair, though one out of a horror movie. He notices thick metal clasps on the armrests, several cables leading to something that looks like a giant metal halo on top of the chair. Parts of it hold little things he recognises as syringes and other medical equipment. Bile rises up his throat.

“They stuck people in there?”, he asks, feeling suddenly sick and cold. How could a person do this to another one? 

“Yeah. They, uh…”, Tony swallows nervously, “we know they tried to recreate your serum, and we believe this is where they did the...procedure.”

Oh. It’s his fault. People had probably undergone horrible, painful procedures because a bunch of crazy scientists wanted a super soldier like himself.  
The thought makes him want to vomit.

When he speaks, his voice sounds hoarse.

“You can continue.”

Tony shuffles in place, nodding to himself. Steve figures this was why they were so weird earlier, they didn’t want to put more weight on his conscience. 

“You remember that one mission in Canada Barton and Romanoff told you about a few months ago?”, he asks.

Cap nods in reply, still clueless where this is going.

“Okay, and when you fought the guy on the helicarrier?”

This time he shudders. That man had been incredibly strong, in a way Steve had never witnessed before. Except for Hulk and Thor he was the only superstrong one, and the attacker had looked like a regular human being, except for the metal arm. Then again Steve had only really seen his forehead, he’d worn a mask and goggles. It had been bizarre, the fight had been equal.

“I remember. We almost killed each other last time”, he nods and tries to read Tony’s expression.

“You think he was given the serum?”

Tony tilts his head and seems to zone out for a second.

“More like forcefully injected”, Clint corrects and earns a smack to the back of his head from his girlfriend.

##  
“Guys I’m sorry but will you please come to a point now?”, the Captain requests irritatedly when Tony doesn't continue. All this prancing around is driving him insane, and although his brain has begun to connect the pieces he is wondering why the team is so affected by this. He can handle tough situations, but he hates being fed the information slowly, piece by piece.

“I assume it was the same guy but there’s more on him in the files you found?”, he pushes and looks at Natasha, the only one that meets his eyes.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. has footage on some guy like him causing trouble a few years ago. So I got curious and went through some more and found him in some really old footage too. I called Tony, and he checked the files. Hydra wrote down everything they let him do. Or them, there were multiple ones, but we just checked him.” She pauses and her gaze intensifies, like she’s staring right into his brain. “This guy has been active since the fifties, Steve.”

She puts her hands on the table and leans forward in his direction, looking at him insistently. 

“How did they do that?”

“Cryo”, she replies. “They froze him in a tube and only got him out for missions. When he was done they brainwashed him, so he likely remembers nothing. No past missions, not his life before Hydra.”

“There’s more. You said he once seemed confused when he fought you, as if he forgot why he was there or something...we found a file containing a series of words to make him obedient to their orders, like an activation code. They called him the Winter Soldier. Most of the intelligence agencies don’t believe he exists.”

“So what”, Cap replies, “this...Winter Soldier is…”

“An idea. A hollow body following Hydra orders, with a body count higher than our’s together”, Natasha continues.

“Not the sex kind”, Tony jokes, but one glare from Natasha makes him shut up like he swallowed his tongue.

“We think”, Bruce chimes in from the quiet end of the roundtable, “that it can be reversed. We have rituals they put them through, we can turn it around. Hopefully.” He frowns. “The software is still running, it might spit out new info that contradicts this idea.”

Steve is carefully emerging from his brain, knocking down Cap’s facade. This is emotional, and Steve is the emotional part. Cap is for action and tactics.

“We have to help him.”

Nobody replies to Steve, but they all nod. 

“But why are we talking about this now? Why is this urgent? What are you not telling me?”, he asks, eyes shooting up at Tony and Nat who exchange a glance. He’s not stupid, his brain is razorsharp, even when sleep-deprived and dealing with depressing memories. He knows they’re leaving something out, something they assume will upset him.

“Look, Cap...we know where he is.”

“Good! When do we-”

“But”, Natasha interrupts, “Fury wants you out of this. You lost several fights with the guy, they think he knows your style by now. Essentially you’re considered a risk.”

Steve blinks a few times, then puffs out some air as if he is about to laugh. The team shoots him careful looks. 

“Look, guys...that sucks, but what did you think I would do? You’re acting like I have anger issues”, he states a little hurt. Of course he wants to be with his team, but them not trusting him with info is kind of a low blow. Hasn’t he proved himself enough times?

“You’ve been a bit on edge lately”, Sam explains, “and we didn’t know why. We didn't want to upset you. Sorry, pal.”   
His expression is honest and open. Steve notices that he has been more serious and understanding lately, less of his friendly teasing and joking. Oh god, is he that bad at hiding his emotions? Has Sam given the team the idea that he is mentally unstable?  
No, that can’t be. Sam is way too understanding, Steve himself is just an open book.

He opens his palms and puts up a little smile, letting it reach his eyes too as he looks at each team member.

“I’m sorry I’ve given you that impression. I’ve been a little down lately, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed. And it’s got nothing to do with any of you, alright?”   
Some of them visibly relax, others nod.   
“I appreciate the concern, but I can handle that myself. I’m...working on it. Now let’s focus back on the problem, alright?”

“Okie-dokie”, Clint grins, visibly happy to have this over with, “that means we’re all good ignoring orders?”

Steve’s brows shoot up at the sudden change in tone.

“We’re what now?”

“ _ Fury _ doesn’t want you in”, Clint continues, “but you’re our leader. It’s not official but we all think and accept it. We want you to come along, but we have to make sure we actually get the guy. Because if we bring you along and mess up the mission, we’re in trouble”, he shrugs.

Steve nods, thinks about it for a second. He could do backup, leave the main combat to the others. That isn’t a problem.

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

_____________________________

Friday morning at seven a.m. the strike team gathers in the garage. Sam, Natasha, Steve, Tony and Sharon Carter have been chosen for the mission.   
Everyone is already suited up when they get into the car to drive over to the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. The ground crew has chosen dark grey uniforms (Steve called it anthracite which earned him raised eyebrows from Sam and Nat), because their usual apparel would stand out too much.  Natasha gets in the driver’s seat, Steve rides shotgun and the remaining three climb into the back of the Jeep. Everyone seems to be in good shape, even Tony appears to have gotten a decent amount of sleep.

“I assume you’re aware”, Steve begins as Nat starts the car and drives it out of the garage, “how important this mission is.”

Tony sighs dramatically, and judging by the suppressed yelp that follows it, Sharon has punched her elbow into his side.

“If we find this man today”, he continues as if nothing has happened, “we might gain a lot more insight on Hydra than we ever had. We have documents, yes. But he’s seen and heard things. If he can remember anything, it might be gold for us.”

“And let’s not forget we might save his life”, Sam adds firmly. Steve nods.

“I was about to get to that.”

Natasha makes her way through the city, taking little streets that aren't used as much to get to the HQ faster.

“He needs our help. Hydra  _ might  _ be after him, but the military and the police are for sure. They don’t know who he is, but without information he seems like a lunatic in armor roaming the streets. We can give him safety, medical treatment and help him rehabilitate. His life’s at stake.”

________________________________

On the flight to Chicago they go over the protocol again. Everyone has been assigned precise tasks, they have played it through multiple times. It should work, it has to.  
Tony has tracked his route so far and thus concluded where he would be today, a sector of a few blocks they need to search through. His task is to use the suit’s abilities to scan buildings from the outside and check for hidden compartments, so the rest of the team won’t have to run up hundreds of stairs only to find nothing.  
Sam will take the high ground as well to double check roofs and more importantly, watch the streets. He will then report to Nat and Sharon on ground, who’ll check all the crowds or crowded rooms Tony and Sam will find.  
Steve is mostly backup and punching in case the retrieval doesn’t go peacefully. After all they don’t know the mental state the guy is in, they can only assume.

By the time the quinjet lands in a park a few blocks away they are fully prepared. Nothing can go wrong at this point.

“Everyone ready?”, Steve asks when the loading ramp opens.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Capsicle”, Tony chirps through the mask. Steve rolls his eyes, but the rest of the team agrees that they are prepared.

“Alright. Sam, Tony, can you give us a ride?”, he asks when they have left their vehicle. It isn’t that far, but they can use the preserved energy later.

“Sure thing, buckle up”, Ironman replies. He wraps an arm around Natasha’s and Steve’s waist, gripping their utility belts for extra support.

“I can’t wait for the fanfiction on this one”, he says before activating the repulsors and shooting the three of them up into the sky. Steve feels his stomach sink rapidly as the world beneath him shrinks and he’s entirely relying on Tony’s grip on him. Bucky would have his head if he knew, if he was here, and that thought paints a sad little smile on Steve’s face. Tony maneuvers them through a few streets and around some corners before he drops them off.

“I’ll start taking a fee for this...anyway, see ya!”

He zooms back up and immediately scans the closest building.

Steve looks around and takes in his surroundings. The street is full of people, with tall buildings on each side. There are crowds and shops to hide in, he tries to make out every possible spot and knows that Natasha is doing the same next to him.

“Where are you?”, Sam asks over the comms. 

“Corner Madison and Clark, look out for the giant Jesus”, Tony replies. Steve doesn’t see him, so he assumes him around the corner somewhere. Indeed Natasha and him stand in front of St. Peter’s church, where a large statue of Jesus is worked into the stone above the entrance. 

“That’s beautiful”, Steve mumbles. Architecture isn’t quite his area of expertise, but he enjoys it nevertheless. 

“It is, but we’re not on a class trip”, Sam reminds him a second later as he drops Sharon off next to him. She lands on the balls of her feet elegantly, then immediately assesses her surroundings professionally.

“You three split up. I’ll go up and see what I can find. Let’s try to be home for dinner.”

With these words he activates his jetpack and shoots up into the air, takes a turn in the opposite direction from Tony and flies off. Steve looks at the women next to him expectantly.

“I’ll follow Sam”, Nat says.

“Tony”, Sharon replies.

“OK, then I’ll be on lookout and see where I’m needed”, he adds. They don’t waste any more time, Nat turns west, Sharon turns east and they jog off to follow the other guys.

For a while there is nothing, only silence on the comms. Steve scans larger crowds and every man that roughly fits the shape and size of the Winter Soldier, but nobody matches. Whenever he passes shops or large entrances he checks for hidden figures, but he can’t find anything out of the ordinary. Only people living their lives, going to work, going shopping. Tourists are everywhere, but nobody stands out or fits in too well. It’s a normal scene in a large city.

“Steve? Do you see that CVS?”

His head shoots up at Sam’s voice in his ear and he quickly scans the signs on the sides of the buildings down the street. When he doesn’t get a result, he jogs further down the street, following Sam’s route.

“Right behind the bridge, I saw a suspicious figure leaving. Tall, broad, navy jacket and black basecap. Actually, he’s coming your way”, Sam confirms over the comms. Steve immediately reduces his pace and tries to blend in with the people around him to avoid alarming the guy.

“Eyes on him yet?”

“No, give me a minute”, he replies quietly to not alert pedestrians. His suit, although bland and grey, is getting a few looks, that’s as much attention as they can handle. He knows the team is waiting for him to confirm, he has seen the Soldier from close up and thus is most fit to identify him.

Steve keeps walking down the street, scanning the people coming in his direction. He knows Sam has eyes up high and will inform him about any change of the route, since that isn’t the case the Winter Soldier has to be coming straight up to him.

“60 feet, Cap”, Sam informs him eventually. He squints, the sun is high, it’s almost noon, and the light makes its way between the buildings, blinding him.

Just in that second something blinks in front of him. Steve tries to locate it when it happens again. He sees the guy that fits Sam’s description,  holding a CVS bag , and the sunlight is reflecting from his-

“Metal hand!”, Steve confirms through the comms. The size, build and walking pattern fit what he remembers from his previous fight with the Soldier. The only difference is that instead of leather from head to toe he now wears average clothes, except for his combat boots.

“That’s the guy, I’m sure. He seems neutral”, he informs the others.

“I’m disappearing into the shadows as we speak. Nat, your turn.”

Steve steps aside into a huge entrance of an even taller building and blends in with the people as best as he can, passing the target in the process. He proceeds for a few more feet, then casually turns and follows the man at a distance. Meanwhile Tony and Sam exchange new positions over the comms, and he spots Sharon on the other side of the road.

“Romanoff, what’s your analysis?”

“He’s insecure, maybe scared. The way he holds himself indicates he’s injured or weak. He’s constantly checking his surroundings, be careful. If we want the soft approach to work, we need to avoid frightening him”, she replies.

“Fine, talk to him. You’re trained best”, Steve decides and falls back a bit, allowing the distance between them to grow larger until he only sees his baseball cap stick out.

He sees Natasha’s redhead approach the target, but he can’t hear what he said. It seems to work, the man slows down and listens.

“Tony, Sam, keep your positions”, Steve murmurs, a hand pressed into the tiny device in his ear.

“Will do. I have eyes on him, and blasters if necessary”, Tony replies, “he seems to be listening, can’t see his expression. But Romanoff’s mind games are working, he- hold up, he’s bailing.”

Steve can confirm that the guy is moving away from Natasha, but she follows in a non-hostile manner, approaching him again. 

“Romanoff?”, he asks, expecting instructions and an explanation of the situation since nobody heard the conversation, but at that moment the guy throws a punch at her. She blocks but gets another quick left fist in the jaw that sends her backwards. The Winter Soldier wastes no time and starts sprinting down the next street.

“I got Romanoff”, Sam calls over comms, “you guys get the dude! He ran down Franklin Street!”

Steve’s legs are immediately in action, sprinting down the street, taking a sharp left and trying to catch up with the other guy. He is fast, real fast.  
He is so fast that Steve has trouble keeping up.

“Tony, I lost visuals”, he yells into the comms as he sprints down the road. People jump out of his way, some are screaming and others have their phones out, no sense of self-preservation whatsoever.

“In ninety feet there’s a little back alley on your right”, Tony explains, “just lost him, I assume he’s in the first underground car park you see.”

“Okay”, Steve calls back, eyeing the alley he is about to reach. “I want you to take care of the people, send Sharon in with me. Sam, Nat, what’s your status?”, he pants into the comms. At this point he’s a little breathless.  He runs around the corner and looks around, trying to find the car park Tony has mentioned.

“Her jaw is dislocated, I’m taking her back”, Sam replies, “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Steve finds the underground entrance and runs in quickly. His eyes need a second to adjust to the dim lights after just being out in bright sunlight, so he stands there and squints in each direction. He uses his ears instead, listening for a clue. There’s breathing somewhere, it’s repressed but he can still hear it. Footsteps follow and something moves on his left, he barely makes out a few cars and behind it, a figure.

“Wait, we want to help you!”, he calls out and follows the man. The space is small, it can fit maybe fifty cars, so there is barely anywhere to go for the guy.  Within a matter of seconds Steve stands in front of him, the guy’s back against the wall. He is panting and trembling and seems to be holding his chest which is heaving with every breath.

“Please”, Steve gasps and raises his hands, “we really don’t wanna harm you. We’re the good guys, okay?”

He takes a step closer and the man looks up, right at him. His face is a grimace of terror so intense it overwhelms Steve for a second. He genuinely looks as if he expects Steve to do god knows what kind of horrible things to him. His eyes are blown wide, his lips tremble and his jaw is working nonstop.  A strand of dark hair had fallen into his sweat-damp face, obscuring one of the soft blue eyes.

Familiar eyes in a familiar face.

“...Bucky?”, he breathes, so quietly it’s barely audible.

It can’t be, he thinks as his heart clenches painfully. Bucky is dead, smashed somewhere in the alps, bones broken and frozen and alone. Steve has the image burned into his brain, and lost many nights of sleep over it. There is no way he is here.  
Even if he had survived, he would be an old man by now. Very old. But the man in front of him has the same eyes, the same mouth, the same facial structure, even though he looks more bony and less soft than Steve remembers. He is an inch or two taller and much wider, but he definitely looks like Bucky.

“Who the hell is Bucky?”, the man replies, his voice trembling as much as his body. Steve’s throat feels like someone is choking him.

“Don’t be scared, Buck. It’s me”, he whispers in a strained voice and takes a desperate step forward as if he is in trance.

Bad idea.

Real bad, super stupid, not great idea.

The motion startles Bucky, and before Steve can react a metal fist hits his stomach with full force, knocking him to his knees, and then a black boot sends him into a blackout.


	4. I fought the Law

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up on the quinjet and the team recounts the mission's events.   
> Back in DC Director Fury is not pleased about the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks!  
> I hope your're all healthy and happy.   
> Again, thank you so much for the lovely feedback, it boosts my motivation so much! I still haven't decided on a specific day to post, and I now think I'll keep it that way. Who knows, maybe I can even fit in two chapters in a good week? ;)
> 
> If you haven't noticed yet, the fic and its chapters are titled after songs that  
> a) I like and  
> b) kind of represent the vibe of the chapter (I do my best)  
> So if you're feeling quirky, listen along and see if it fits.
> 
> As usual, talk to me on [my tumblr](https://dance-in-moonlight.tumblr.com/)!

Something is ringing. A faint sound that slowly gets louder, so loud it hurts his head. He groans.  Another noise, deeper, more melodic. A pattern, noise, no noise, noise. The same sound again, higher this time, from the other side of his head. Voices?   
Steve focuses on the sounds. They become clearer, but his head also hurts more. 

"Hey pal, you wanna wake up?"

Sam. 

Steve swallows and immediately winces. His throat is sore and his jaw feels like a mountain has been dropped on it. No Sam, he really doesn’t wanna wake up. Everything hurts and his stomach feels weird and the ground is swaying. But he knows he has a responsibility, he remembers his team and that he has to be there for them.  
So he opens his eyes and squints, the bright light above increases his headache. He closes them again.

"Take your time, it's only been ten minutes. You'll be better by the time we get home", his friend continues. Steve tries to move his tongue, then carefully feels along his gums and teeth. Nothing hurts or tastes like blood, all good. Then he slowly raises his arm with more effort than it should take, and feels his face. When he touches the right cheekbone a hot pain shoots through his face, through his eye and down to his jaw and back to his skull. The same happens with a point on his jaw. The skin is hot and split open and probably red.

"You look like shit. What happened down there?", Sam asks with a worried undertone in his voice. Steve thinks about it for a second, and the memory hits him so hard it makes him feel sick. Well, sicker, he already feels like throwing up.

He carefully moves his jaw and decides it’s good enough to talk. 

"I tried to talk to him. He was shaking, Sam", he says slowly, his voice hoarse. 

"He was scared, I told him we're the good ones. But…I saw his face and he… It's Bucky. The guy we're chasing is Bucky."

Saying it out loud feels like lifting a weight off of his chest, but he doesn’t feel relieved. He feels crushed, filled with poison, scared and happy at the same time, overwhelmed by his longing heart and his logical brain fighting over the appropriate reaction.

"As in Bucky Barnes?", Sam asks in disbelief. "You know he's…" 

"Of course I do, but I'm sure. Either that or Hydra cloned him for some reason." 

Steve exhales a shaky sigh and smoothes his face, tries to force his body into a meditative calmness to escape the brewing thunderstorm.

Sam is quiet but Steve hears him move, and he hears lighter footsteps approach. Natasha?

"And then?", she mumbles, barely audible. Steve assumes her jaw still hurts, she’d been hit with the full force of Bucky’s arm afterall. 

"Uh… I was surprised and must have scared him...he knocked me out. That was stupid", Steve replies slowly. 

"Did you get him?" 

Sam sighs and Steve feels his hand on his knee, patting it twice.

"Look man, we tried. But you were knocked out, we didn't know your condition-“

"You let him get away?", Steve croaks in disbelief. How could they? Don’t they remember that a life is at stake? 

There is a noise behind his head, reminding him of the rest of the team, so Steve decides to force his eyes open and carefully sit up on the bench. His head throbs and his stomach aches, but other than that he seems to be okay. Not counting the storm in his heart.  
He slowly turns to find Natasha and Sam on the bench next to him, Tony and Sharon on the opposite. They’re all watching him closely. 

"Steve, calm down", Nat warns with a stern look. 

"Why? We just lost our greatest evidence on Hydra, someone with insight-  _ oh _ , and it’s Bucky! My freaking-” He stops himself, careful Steve, stay alert. 

“... My best friend just appeared after I thought he was dead and you let him run? With Hydra possibly trying to kill him?", he continues nevertheless, speaking loud enough to hurt his skull even more. He doesn’t care about the ringing in his ears. He just can’t believe the team would do him this dirty, fail at such a simple thing.

" Are you serious? ", Sharon shoots back, now glaring at him. Her lip trembles as she speaks. "For all we knew you could have had inner bleedings or brain damage or god knows what. We had to take care of you, at least check! And besides, you saw him run. We’ve been on his heels for months, he’s fast and he’s good." 

She frowns and shakes her head, but allows Tony to pull her back into the seat.

Steve balls his fists where they lie on his thighs. Why can’t they understand how important this is? Is he the only one seeing this? 

"I understand", he forces out slowly, "I’m just saying there were more than enough people for both of us. Tony was outside, he could have-" 

"He did", Sam interrupts quietly with a warning undertone , "but before he chased the-... Bucky, he came to see if you needed help. He was the first one there, the rest of us were a little behind." 

"What? Tony why-" 

"God fucking damn it", Tony calls and jumps out his seat. His fist is balled by his side, the other hand is pointing at Steve as he glares at him with a deep crease above his eyebrows. 

"I don't know if you're just too hyper-focused on how much you want to go back to the 20th century or if you're just too good for us, but some people here consider you their friend, you know? We care about you more than a mission but I guess that's not mutual. You don’t even know for sure what you saw, but you’re willing to risk your life and the team dynamic for them. For a fucking ‘maybe’."

With an annoyed snort he heads to the front where the pilots are seated, thus leaving the group as far behind as possible. 

They all are silent for a few seconds. Steve stares at his fists, mewling his injured jaw. Tony is partially right, he has been obsessing over Bucky so much that he had actually forgotten about the other people he loves. His teammates, his friends. They'd risk their jobs to bring him along, and then again to make sure he is fine. And here he sits, shaming them for it. But he  _ is  _ certain that he saw Bucky, and he’s determined to find him. If Tony doesn’t want to believe him, that’s fine, Steve can work without him. For now he should make up with the team.

"I'm…an idiot", he says into the silence. He makes his voice soft, Steve’s voice instead of Cap’s. He’s tired and confused anyway, and he  _ is  _ really sorry for being aggressive, so he doesn’t have to act much.

"You are", Natasha agrees, "but I'll let it slide. Just apologize to Tony and the others and we can make a plan on what to tell Fury, okay?" 

_______________________

  
"What did you do?", Fury barks so harshly that it echoes back in Steve’s injured head. It reminds him of his days in the army. He feels about as small as he was back then, scrawny and weak and powerless.   
Natasha leans forward in her seat, over the table towards Fury and opens her mouth, but is cut off by a gesture in her direction. 

"Nu-uh Romanoff, you're next. I'm asking Rogers.  **What** .  **Did** .  **You** .  **Do** . “

Steve sighs. Better to get this over with fast, it won’t be pleasant anyway. 

"I triggered him, he knocked me out. Team had to check on me, he escaped", he explains quickly without looking his superior in the eye. 

"And how", Fury continues impatiently, "did you trigger him? Tell me it was an accident at least, I have to explain this to the Senators and need a damn good reason why there’s a Hydra asset roaming the country!" 

“He’s not Hydra anymore”, Steve whispers and stares at his folded hands on the table. He winces when Fury barks and impatient reply, and now he just feels like a kid, a sad little boy being yelled at and struggling to hold back the tears. Cap is wounded and tired and has stepped back, now Steve has to endure this meeting. 

"I…", he begins, but stops. The memory of Bucky's eyes appears in his head, bright blue and wide with terror. The trembling lip, the sweat on his forehead. He was terrified, and Steve wasn’t able to handle it. He had spent a decade loving and protecting that man as good as he could, it’s basic instinct now. A few years in the ice didn’t change that. All he wants is to bring Bucky home and make sure he is fine. 

"Steve?", Sam nudges quietly when he doesn’t respond immediately. They are all sitting around a dark wooden table, polished so sleek he can see all their reflections. He has apologised to the team already, but the tension is still there, at least with Tony, and it's adding to the uncomfortable atmosphere. Sam sits on his right, giving him a questioning look.   


"I saw that he was scared. Terrified, actually, his body language was overwhelming. I wanted to tell him we'd help him, so I stepped up and that's what triggered him", he finishes. When no answer is audible for a few seconds, he braces himself and looks up. Fury is bending over the table, one hand on the surface, the other stretched out to point at Steve. 

"You're telling me", he asks in a voice that sends the bad kind of shivers down Steve's spine, "that one of the world's most dangerous assassins is still roaming America because you threw all your training out of the window to try and snuggle up with your  _ school pal _ ? Who has been kept by Hydra for years, possibly gone insane in the process?" 

His eye is focused on Steve with such an intensity that it feels like a laser is slowly burning through his forehead and into his mind. It’s times like this when he is intimidated by Fury, almost scared.  _ Almost _ . He blames it on the Bucky-dilemma. 

" Sir-"

"You're out." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You're out", Fury decides, straightening up, "you won't go on missions for a while, you'll get a desk. In fact, I won't let you go anywhere without supervision until we got the guy." 

"You can't -" 

"I can and I will. Now please leave, I have to talk to your teammates." 

Steve snorts angrily when he is dismissed, gets up and storms out of the room like a scolded teenager.


	5. I miss You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is overwhelmed by his latest discovery, and he loses himself in his worries for a while. Luckily his team always has an eye on him and a shoulder to lean on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello folks!
> 
> I hope you all had a great week. Mine was a bit stressful, so apologies for this chapter being so late. To make it up to you, I'll post the next one right after. :)
> 
> In this one Steve is in kind of a bad place again, he's obviously worried about Bucky and what Hydra might have done to him, but Sam shows once more what a great friend he is. I promise we'll get some more of Bucky in the next chapter.
> 
> Have fun reading!

Wednesday is hell. 

It has taken Steve all night to process the new information, understand that all this is really happening. By the time he’s convinced it wasn’t just another nightmare, that Bucky is alive and out there, it’s already dawning. And right then he begins to spiral.

Steve had been frozen for almost 70 years.

Seventy years of peaceful slumber in the ice, unconscious, and then he’d been woken up in a nice, cosy room. He’d been introduced into the world, he had been handled carefully and had found friends that care about him.

Bucky had experienced it differently.

He’d probably been kidnapped, drugged, hurt, caged.  They had stuck needles into him, ripped off his arm, made him a new one, wiped his brain. Hydra had liked to experiment in the past, who said they didn’t continue that? Who knows what kind of horrible things they had used him for. They had certainly taken his free will, made him kill, put himself in danger, do things he didn’t want to do.  
Things the team hasn't even found out about yet, torture beyond Steve’s imagination. Who knows what else Bucky had been through?

He had been stripped of his memories, put in a cryo tube, been rearranged and hurt, hurt,  _ hurt, hurt, hurt,  _ **_hurt_ ** **,** **_hurt_ ** **, hurt, hurt, HURT, HURT, HURT** ...

__________

Steve doesn’t know how much time has passed, but the sunlight coming in through the living room windows is golden and throws long shadows on the furniture. He also doesn’t know what has ripped him out of the howling storm of  _ hurt  _ and  _ Bucky  _ inside his head, the cruel scenarios his sadistic brain made up for him. Whatever it is, he is thankful for it.  
He notices the hand on his shoulder, warm, squeezing him. Giving him a sense of stability.  
Looking up from his lap he finds Sam right in front of him, worried eyes fixed on his face, examining him. Steve must look somewhat pathetic where he has sunk onto the floor in front of the couch, hands kneading the fluffy carpet in agony and sobbing into the quiet room.  Raising a hand to wipe his face, he sits up straight and sniffles one last time before looking at his friend again. 

“Um…”

He doesn't really know what to say, how long has Sam been there? How much of his nightmares has he expressed out loud?    
Perhaps Sam has figured out that there is more to the story?

“So”, Steve tries again, “what brought you up here?”

Sam visibly loses some of the tension he’s been holding and changes from his squatting position into a sitting one, retrieving his hand in the process.

“I haven’t seen you all day. Thought you were hiding in the gym, but I couldn’t find you. I asked Jarvis and he told me you were pacing around. I actually wanted to come up earlier, but uh”, he clears his throat and lowers his gaze for a second before continuing, “I was convinced by someone you’d need some time on your own.” Now he frowns and reaches out to put a hand on Steve’s knee carefully.   
“A while ago I asked Jarvis again and he said...well, I came up here as fast as I could. Steve...are you okay man? I mean I know the situation is fucked up but we didn’t expect you to…”

“To lose it like that?”, Steve completes and scrunches his nose a little bit.    
“Sorry Sam, I...I didn’t mean to worry you guys.” 

Instead of replying verbally Sam smiles at him, warm and welcoming. He doesn’t pity Steve or think badly of him, he just wants to be there for his friend. That’s one of the reasons Steve appreciates him so much: Sam knows when he has to let things be. He won’t ask or prod no matter how badly he wants to understand, at least not until Steve will show him he’s ready. He gives him time and space while still comforting him, and that is a trait few people have.

He lets Sam know his gratitude with a small smile and a nod, and judging by the other’s reaction he understands.

“Hey, what time is it?”, Steve eventually breaks the silence before it can become awkward, “I’m kind of hungry.”

“No wonder if you’ve been sittin’ here all day. It’s almost six pm” Sam replies with a quick glance at his wrist watch. He rises up and extends a hand for Steve to grab, then pulls him up in a swift motion. Steve retracts his hand and rubs the back of his neck as he glances over to the open kitchen.

“Yeah… I got stuck in my head.”

“You were spiraling”, Sam states and shakes his head.

“I know I keep saying this, but you can always talk to me or a professional. I’m not pushing”, he adds defensively when Steve furrows his brows, “I’m just saying it’s okay to look for help, comfort or distraction.” With that he turns towards the door that leads to the hallway and crosses the room in fast steps, then stops with his hand on the handle.

“You comin’?”, he asks over his shoulder.

Steve feels like he is missing something, has he zoned out in the conversation?

“Uh”, he replied, “where…? I don’t have anything on my schedule, and I’m not really in the mood to-”

“We’re going out”, Sam interrupts in a voice that indicates he won’t take ‘no’ as an answer. Steve stops immediately, words stuck in his throat and jaw slightly slack. He isn’t used to this kind of tone from Sam.

“You’ve been caged up in here all day”, his friend explains a bit calmer, “you haven’t eaten and gotten fresh air. If you stay you’ll go insane by Friday. Come on, let’s get your mind off of things and grab some food on the way. I promise you it’ll be easier to fall asleep tonight if you calm down a little.”

Once more Steve is amazed by how reasonable and caring his friend is. Even though his head hurts from all the bad thoughts, his eyes are stinging and he feels sick from crying and worrying, Steve knows Sam is right, and after taking a deep breath he grabs a jacket and follows his friend toward the elevator. Perhaps it’s a good idea to get his mind off of Bucky for a little while, even though it will be tough.

“Uh Sam”, he remembers when the elevator doors close, “what about Fury's babysitter rule?”

Next to him Sam chuckles, presses the button for the ground floor and leans back.

“Don’t worry, I'm considered one of the reasonable ones that can watch you...we’ll get tacos, okay?”

Steve sighs and leans his head back against the metal wall. The vibrations of the moving elevator hum through his head and make him feel somewhat numb.

Of course Sam offering to get one of Steve’s favourites is his way of apologising, even though he has done nothing wrong in the first place. It wasn’t his decision that they’ll go on the next mission without him, and Steve doesn’t blame him. He doesn’t particularly like it either, but if he thinks about it as objectively as he can manage he kind of understands. It’s his own fault, but it still sucks.

There’s no way to tell whether Steve would make another emotional decision that endangers his team. Of course Fury can’t let that happen. Still, the thought of the team treating Bucky like a menace, hurting and hunting and catching him like an animal makes him sicker than he already is. 

By the time they reach the ground floor he’s spiraling again. He doesn’t notice until Sam softly tugs on his sleeve and gives him a knowing look, which makes Steve shoot him an apologetic smile in return. Sam asks him about his opinion on the latest Dodgers game as they walk out, and after exchanging a few different views Steve begins to explain his opinion to him, completely forgetting about his worries for a while.

______________________

Steve enters his apartment with a yawn for the second time in two hours.

They have been at a mexican place for dinner, enjoying tacos while Sam kept asking him stuff about baseball and arguing with him about certain team decisions, until Steve geeked out and explained their strategy and tactics through the whole last season and what he expected in the next. At some point Sam just smiled really satisfied, but Steve didn’t understand why.  
He decides to take a quick shower before heading to bed, washing off the sweat and today's emotional turbulence.

After returning home from dinner and a short walk Sam had convinced him to change into running clothes after just a few tries. Steve originally wanted to go to bed, maybe stare at the pocket watch he kept in his drawer, a watch Bucky had given him for his  twenty-fifth birthday. Steve kept a little photo of his boyfriend under the lid.

Instead Sam had dragged him out for a run, and then proceeded to risk his own health to wear Steve down. He had to drag Sam out of the elevator afterwards, but he is pretty sure he knows the intention: he is exhausted and will go straight to bed instead of worrying over Bucky and the mission all night. Well played, Sam.  
Ten minutes later he drops into bed, muscles and eyelids heavy from lack of energy and the hot shower he’s taken. Just before he gets comfortable he slips his hand into the top drawer of the nightstand and searches with his fingers until they meet cold metal.

Steve pulls the chain out, rolls on his back and holds it up over his head. The light of the city seeps through the blinds and makes the metal shimmer just enough for Steve to make out most letters and scratches.

_ 'til the end of the line, Steve. _

He remembers seeing them like this.

After missions had gone well, when Bucky and him had been euphoric and full of hope. Bucky sitting on top of him in his cot and grinning down, the watch on his bare chest reflecting the dim light of the gas lantern in the tent. He had given Bucky the watch for his night watch shift so he could count down the seconds until he could crawl under the covers to Steve. 

_ “You were great today”, Bucky praises him through shiny white teeth, “but I gotta admit when you pushed that tank in front of the team to protect us from bullets, that was a bit over the top.” _

_ Steve grins up at him, one hand lazily stroking one of Bucky’s clothed thighs, the other one folded underneath his own head.  _

_ “Oh yeah? I could’ve sworn I saw your eyes glitter a little”, he teases, earning him a slap to the chest from his boyfriend. _

_ “Hey! Keep teasing like that and you'll regret it, asshole”, Bucky replies, but there is no real force behind those words. He says them with a grin and eyes so happy it’s almost painful to see. Steve would give anything to have him keep that expression forever, to protect him from all evil. He’d never let Hydra touch him again. _

_ “Whatcha thinking about?”, Bucky interrupts his thoughts, running his fingertips gently down his chest and leaning down until their faces are mere inches apart and Steve feels his breath tickle his cheeks. _

_ “It’s kind of rude to zone out with a hot guy in your lap, dontcha think?” _

_ Steve shakes his head and lets the grin that was building up take over his face, beaming up at Bucky. _

_ “You’re impossible”, he mumbles and lifts his head just enough to let Bucky place a chaste kiss on his lips. His eyes fall shut and his face softens almost immediately. _

_ “That’s why you love me though”, Bucky whispers before dropping down to kiss him properly, warm hands sliding around his neck in a possessive hold. Steve feels his tongue on his lips and thumbs rubbing patterns into the skin of his neck, he breathes a happy sigh into the kiss. _

  
Steve lets out a shaky breath and curls up, suddenly feeling very lonely in his big cold bed. He remembers how Bucky had fallen asleep that night, bare chest against Steve’s, their tags and the watch tangled in between. In the middle of a warzone with a mission that would continue before dawn, only protected by a thin tent, Bucky had trusted him enough to calmy fall asleep with him. He’d known how much he loved Bucky since he was  sixteen , but in that moment he had realised how much Bucky loved  _ him _ . That he was the main reason Bucky had hope and smiled even after fighting a bunch of Hydra agents, with more on the way.

It had been overwhelming, and he had shed a few tears, face pressed into his sleeping partner’s hair.

“I’m sorry”, Steve whispers into the empty room. He raises the watch to his face, kisses it and whispers: “I promise I will do everything it takes to get you back. I promise.”


	6. I'm not okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve decides to sweat out his worries about the mission, because today his teammates will try once more to bring Bucky home. Or the WInter Soldier for those who don't believe him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks! 
> 
> As promised, here's the second part of today's upload. We're gonna end Steve's suffering soon, I promise! We just need a little bit more Bucky-catching, and then we'll get right into the pining :D  
> For now enjoy Steve getting pissed at authorities again.
> 
> Oh also: I decided to link the chapters on [my tumblr](https://dance-in-moonlight.tumblr.com/) with the corresponding songs/artists, have a look in case you're interested.
> 
> Now enjoy the chapter!

The first thought that crosses his mind when he wakes up on Friday, ten days after seeing Bucky again, is the mission. He has struggled to focus all week, barely recalls what has been discussed in briefings and meetings for campaigns, because Bucky had been haunting his mind. 

Today they will go out again to catch the Winter Soldier, to find Bucky and bring him home. 

Steve knows he won't be able to fall asleep again, and judging by the light seeping through the blinds it's around seven, late enough to get up anyway. He pushes the covers away and goes into the bathroom to brush his teeth; there's no way he'll get any food down. Steve can't remember the last time he's been so nervous. His muscles are tensioned, hardening his whole body, and his gums are complaining about the roughness with which he scrubs his teeth, as if it's all their fault. But he's anxious and he needs to get rid of the tension, or else he might do something stupid or hurt himself. 

The truth is, he thinks as he goes back into the bedroom and takes trainers, a tank top and sweats out of his closet, that he's scared. It isn't about his team being in danger or that he doesn't trust them to complete the task. They're very capable of it, he knows. 

What Steve is most scared of are the consequences. 

What if it isn't  _ his _ Bucky? 

What if he has changed? 

What if he has forgotten  _ everything _ ? 

Because he has lived with the idea of Bucky resting in peace, only himself suffering alone. That has been okay, because in that idea Bucky was in a better place.   
Until Steve learned that he isn’t. That he, in fact, has been in a very very bad place and has been used and abused.  Steve can’t live with the thought of finally getting Bucky back but not being able to have him like he used to be back then. Not waking up with him but knowing he is somewhere in the city, forgetting about him and the life they had. Not laughing with him and talking about old times. Not comforting him, embracing him, putting the world at his feet.   
No, that can’t happen. He wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

Once he’s dressed he walks down the corridor of his apartment toward the elevator and presses the button once he enters. The deep vibrations of the approaching elevator resonate in his bones, syncing with the nervous vibrations he already feels. He wants to scream. He wants to escape, crawl out of his body and hide somewhere, or run very far away.

When the doors open he throws himself inside the elevator as if the room might explode behind him if he waits a second longer. 

"Good morning Captain Rogers", Jarvis greets as the doors close with a  _ swoosh _ . "What is your destination?" 

"Gym, please", Steve replies quietly and leans back against the cool metal wall behind him. He will try to relieve his tension with the punch bag, maybe run on the treadmills since he isn’t allowed outside today. Another awesome fact. 

When the elevator remains still for a few seconds, Steve frowns and looks up at the ceiling, as if to find the AI that controls the elevator. 

"Jarvis…?" 

"My apologies Captain Rogers, the elevator protocol was changed in a hurry… I might be experiencing some lagging." 

Without another word from Jarvis the elevator starts moving and carries Steve down to the gym while he absent mindedly wonders why the protocols have been overridden. Perhaps one of Tony's late night ideas. 

___________

The gym is empty, just as Steve has expected. His teammates are probably sitting together on the community floor, going over the mission protocol with a cup of coffee in their hands. 

Usually he doesn’t mind them going on missions without him, since he has lots of work besides the Avengers as well. But being stuck in the tower, knowing his boyfriend - assuming that Bucky remembers him (-Steve tells himself the stressful situation on the mission doesn’t count-) and still wants to pick up where they left off - is running around terrified while his team gets ready without him makes him feel left out. 

Yes, perhaps he would be emotional when he sees Bucky again. Very likely.  _ Definitely _ . 

But they could have invited him to the briefing at least. 

Steve decides to begin his warmup on the treadmill. Running clears his mind and activates his body in the morning without creating too much of a strain.  He gets on the machine and pushes a bunch of buttons to set his program, 10 miles in a faster than average pace.   
The first steps are heavy, irregular as usually. After a few seconds he finds his pace, his legs follow a steady pattern and his breath evens.  As soon as he is running and warming up, his thoughts drift back to the mission while his body runs on autopilot. 

He's been told nothing. Only that it happens today, and who will be on the quinjet.  Now, logically, if they fly off in the morning and want to retrieve and bring him back until night, he has to be in the States. In the North maybe, if he hasn't traveled too far.  Would he go there? Is he wandering the streets, alone and confused? Or maybe he’s scared that Hydra will be on his tracks, maybe he remembers what they did to him.  Will he hide? Does he think...does he think they will do the same kind of thing to him?  
Steve shivers at the thought that Bucky might not have experienced human compassion in ages. He knows Hydra, they won’t waste energy on pampering their tools. Because that’s what Bucky was to them, a tool. That’s why they need to get him home so badly, to show him he’s more than that. To heal him. To protect him.

When his thighs burn and every step becomes harder, he turns off the treadmill and walks over to the weights instead.   
He puts a good amount of weights on the rack before he lays down on the bench, adjusts his position and starts pushing. His arms and chest tighten, but it feels good to get the energy out. Steve knows he can work off a good portion of the anxiety, he usually does it this way. Not very healthy, Sam would be disappointed. Sam. Maybe Steve should consider calling his therapist. Scratch that, he definitely should.  
The truth is, he thinks as he lifts the heavy weights off his chest and high in the air, that he’s scared. He hasn’t told anyone about his feelings, how he still struggles with the 21st century, how he misses Bucky. How much he fears losing Peggy too, because eventually he will. Steve knows he has to deal with it, and sharing it would probably help, but he doesn’t want to be pitied. And he’s scared of getting his diagnosis on paper, because that would make it more real. Now he can still brush it off as intrusive thoughts or homesickness, but once it’s official he will have to deal with it properly.

He takes a break, hangs the weight back in and gasps some air into his lungs. He has to do something about it. Steve has a team to lead, tactical decisions to make. Life and death lies in his hands weekly, he can not afford such a kind of distraction.  He gets up and puts more weight on, gives himself more of a challenge. If he’s lucky, he’ll be tired enough for a nap later, so he can sleep the day away. And when he wakes up, they will be home with Bucky. Steve sighs and begins to lift again, this time his muscles complain about it.

Bucky. Another reason to fix himself. No matter what condition Bucky will be in, he definitely won’t be very stable. If Steve wants to be there for him, be good for him, he needs to sort out his issues. He can’t help fix Bucky if he isn’t fixed himself.

Eventually his throat rebels against the dryness, and his shaking hands and cramping stomach indicate his need for a break. With a groan he hangs the big dumbbell back into the bracket and gets off the bench. The black leather is slick from his sweat, he’ll have to give the room a deep clean before he leaves. The room is steamy, but it might be his exhaustion playing tricks on his mind.  
With weak knees and sore muscles he makes his way across the gym to a cooler containing a variety of drinks meant to boost energy or help with building muscle. Usually there are  several fresh smoothies inside , since everybody has their own preferred diet, but since all the others are on a mission today there are none.  
Steve takes a bottle of plain water and gulps half of it down within seconds. The cold spreads from his esophagus through his chest and stomach quickly, and his sweat-drenched clothes help cool him from the outside. He feels sweat pool in the back of his head, drip slowly down his neck. He grimaces in disgust, he has to shower asap.  Behind him a quiet  _ swish  _ indicates that the door has slid open, and thus someone must have entered. He wipes the free hand over his face and looks back over his shoulder to find Wanda in sweatpants and a sports bra.

“Hi”, she says casually, “can I join you? I don’t really have anything else to do.”

Steve slowly screws the lid back onto the bottle and nods. His body is aching, but he assumes it's barely nine. There is so much day left. So much time to fill with distraction. When he doesn’t reply Wanda comes closer, crossing her arms and eyeing him once she reaches him. There is no mirror nearby, but Steve is sure he must look like shit. His hair is dripping sweat, his back is completely soaked and the lack of sleep has probably left dark rings under his eyes.  
Wanda seems to agree, because she shakes her head and reaches out to take his arm, though only touching him with her fingertips to avoid too much contact with body fluids.

“Scratch that, it’s enough for today”, she decides and pulls him towards the elevator. He follows, too exhausted for more training yet too anxious for anything else.

“I want to do a few more exercises”, he lies half-heartedly while still following her. His biceps scream at the idea, but he isn’t ready for another afternoon like last Wednesday. Not again.

“You’ve been down here long enough”, she insists and gently pushes him into the elevator, then tells the AI to take them back up to Steve’s floor. They stand in silence while Steve considers her argument. Sure, he has started quite early, and even not considering the warmup he has been working out for some time. But his metabolism works differently, he can go longer, lift heavier, run faster. From that perspective it hasn’t even been that much, he will probably be fit in a matter of minutes, right? Usually he feels the pain and tension leave his muscles, sometimes faster, sometimes it takes longer. He doesn’t feel any relief so far.

“What’s the time?”, he asks when the elevator doors open on his floor.

“Eleven thirty a.m.”, Jarvis replies through the speaker.

Oh. Over four hours of workout. Whoops.

Wanda presses her hand against his back to move him down the corridor, but immediately recoils in disgust and wipes the cold sweat off on a dry part of his shirt.

“Sorry”, Steve mumbles and moves down the corridor towards his bathroom. “I should take a shower.”

“Definitely. No spiraling though, please. If you’re not done in ten minutes, I will come in”, she threatens with a raised finger. 

“Tss, I don’t need that long.”

“You’ve been training for more than four hours, your limbs are likely tired.”

He shrugs and walks into the bathroom, closes the door behind him and starts to strip. Something makes him feel uneasy, tingles under his skin, but he can’t put his finger on it. His brain is slow, why? Usually his mind is sharp, connecting things is easy. It feels different than usual. Like a thick cloud is between him and his thoughts. The hot water relaxes his muscles and mind, and his mood lifts as soon as he starts scrubbing off the stickiness. He doesn’t remember who has bought the lemon scented shampoo, but in the hot air the scent spreads quickly and helps him shake off some of the numbness. As he rinses it off he wonders how much time has passed; is Wanda worried already? Steve hopes she won’t just stand outside, that would be creepy. Then again she probably has other things to do.  
He turns off the water and frowns.  _ Does  _ she have something else to do? If she isn’t a part of the mission, Fury or Coulson or anyone else would certainly have given her a task. It’s the middle of the week. They never get a day off when it isn’t scheduled or specifically asked for. And if she  _ has  _ asked for it then why is she here? They are friends, sure, but not  _ that  _ tight. Even if she worries about him she wouldn’t cancel all of her plans to hang out with him, especially not while he’s in this messy state.  
Steve dries himself off while his mind is running, trying to piece the picture together.

Something feels off, his super-sense is tingling and his warm and relaxed muscles complain about the slowly returning tension. He opens the door an inch to check the corridor, and when he can’t see her there he quickly paces to his bedroom with the towel around his hips.

Wanda is one of the strongest Avengers, if not  _ the  _ strongest of them all. Not bringing her along on the mission is almost stupid, he thinks as he gets dressed. She’s the trump up their sleeve, and on missions like this she should definitely be involved. The other team members are competent and trustworthy, but Wanda could get into Bucky’s head and just make him come along peacefully.  What other plans could she have that explain her not joining such an important mission while also allowing her to stay at the tower? Something doesn’t add up.  
He walks back to the spot where he has last seen her, wondering where she is now. The smell of roasting onions leads him to the kitchen, where he finds her by the stove, preparing something in a saucepan while the contents of a larger pot bubble on her other side.

“You’re cooking”, he observes. Wanda looks up, startled by his voice, but shoots him a little smile.

“It’s almost noon and you haven’t eaten”, she shrugs and adds tomato paste and some herbs into her saucepan.

“Yes, but don’t you have plans tod-”

He stops mid-sentence, frowning. The crease in his forehead deepens by the second, and the feeling of uneasiness washes over him again.

“How do you know?”

Wanda, clearly confused by the change in tone, looks up at him again. Either she is a good actress or she really doesn’t know what he means. Her eyes are big and she slightly shakes her head, trying to indicate that she can’t follow.

“I didn’t tell you that I didn’t have breakfast”, he continues, his voice tight. That’s it. That made him feel uneasy. Her behaviour so far was...oddly convenient.

“I assumed-”

“You also _assumed_ almost the exact time I had spent down in the gym then?”, he proceeds as he replays their earlier conversation in his head. She couldn’t have known, his groaning wasn’t loud enough to reach another floor and unless she had seen him there was no other way she could have known the time.

Wanda’s skin turns a few shades lighter and her brows furrow as she looks down at her cooking. She’s quiet, either she doesn’t know what to say or she wants Steve to get there on his own. He is sure he can, now that his brain is running smoothly again.

“Nobody saw or heard me this morning, I would have noticed them too. The only one I even talked to was-...”

The sudden realisation hits him unprepared, and he takes a second to connect the pieces. The picture becomes clear, and when he focuses back on Wanda his nostrils are flared and his mouth is twitching.

“Jarvis lagged”, he continues quietly, forcing his voice to stay level, “he informed you, didn’t he? You didn’t have other plans, you stayed home in case  _ I  _ fucked up, right?”   
When she doesn’t look up at him, he continues.   
“So not only did you guys put me on lockdown, you had to choose a babysitter that could turn my mind into pudding when I acted up.”

Wanda twitches and grimaces at his unfair words, then looks at him with pleading eyes.

“It’s not like-”

“Save it”, he spits out, turns on his heels and crosses the room on his way to the door. At this point he is sure Jarvis will block the elevator, but there is an emergency staircase. If necessary he can walk down 90 stories, he just has to get out. There is no way he will stay in the tower with people who treat him like an atomic bomb, as if he is about to steal a quinjet and follow the team. He’s desperate but not stupid, and he would never endanger a mission like that.

“Steve, please wait!”, Wanda calls behind him, but he goes through the door before she can hold it with her powers. He sprints down the stairs as fast as he can, knowing that Wanda can’t move anything without causing a lot of damage, and she is too slow to follow him. She still struggles with mind control over a distance larger than a few feet, which is the reason he’s running so fast.  
He basically flies down the steps, takes the turns so fast that he gets a bit dizzy, but that doesn’t stop him. Steve isn’t stupid enough to believe that Wanda is the only one in the tower, there are probably several S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and a few other Avengers on their way to stop him, so he has to give his best.  His muscles have started to regenerate energy, but the sprint strains them to a point he hasn’t reached in a good while, it actually gets difficult by the time he reaches the 20th floor.  
Everything is burning when he finally reaches the lobby, but it isn't over yet. The security guards get up and in his way, reaching out to hold him back.

“Trust me, you don’t want this”, he pants as he sprints towards them, fists balled and eyes determined. As anticipated they value their bones and jump out of his path, allowing him to pace through the front door and out onto the street.

Steve mentally thanks New York for its size and controlled chaos as he quickly makes his way through the mass of people on the sidewalk, no specific direction in mind other than away from the tower. He doesn’t turn when he hears people shouting his name, he doesn't care about those whom he pushes. The only thing he knows is that he needs his space right now, he can’t stand to be caged in those walls like an animal.  As soon as he gets the chance he takes a tram. Once he’s sure nobody has followed him he relaxes a little. He will go somewhere safe and spend the day there. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. will be all over the city looking for him, he is in serious trouble, but he doesn’t care. What can they do, fire him? 


	7. Mr Loverman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve gets the news from his team and Nat takes him to see Bucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks!
> 
> Today we're getting one step closer to our boys uniting as the team tries once more to get Bucky home!  
> I'm sorry this is a bit late, real life and my other projects confused me, I'll be better.  
> The list of songs can be found on [my tumblr](https://dance-in-moonlight.tumblr.com/post/635526676680507392/soley-soley) if you're interested!  
> Enjoy the Chapter!

The quinjet flies quietly, only a low hum can be heard if they really focus.   
Tony has left the controls to two agents and sits in the back, one of his StarkPads in his lap. Natasha is looking over his shoulder as the two of them review every bit of information on the Winter Soldier they can find. Jarvis is currently accessing every security camera, traffic camera, online article and social media post from the approximated area in real time to narrow his location down to a few streets.  
Clint sits curled up on a bench, his phone in his hands. He's typing furiously, deep in conversation with someone on the other end.  
Sharon stands by a window, looking down at the cities and landscapes they pass. They have been flying for a little over five hours now. The quinjets can take different routes and fly faster than average planes, so they will reach their destination soon.  
In yesterday’s meeting Tony had presented his observations that led them to Edmonton, Alberta in Canada. The team had reviewed it, and after even Fury agreed that they had solid evidence they scheduled the flight.

“How far are you?”, Sharon asks, breaking the silence in the vehicle. Natasha looks up at her, then back down at the calculations with a frown.

“Twenty blocks so far...this is giving me a headache.”

She gets up gracefully and stretches her whole body, cracking a few joints in the process. They've been sitting for a long time.

“We should land soon”, she continues with a look to the front of the quinjet. One of the pilots gives her a thumbs up and she nods, then turns back to Sharon and crosses her arms.

“Do we have to go over the plan again?”

Sharon shakes her head in response, she's good. And they've checked the plan five times already. 

“Not for my sake. Twenty blocks is good, I say we take it. We don’t want to get the jet too close, he’ll immediately know what’s up. Then we can forget the whole mission.”

“Agreed, we have time to sneak up”, Nat nods, “he knows we're after him and thinks we're enemies, so we need to be extra careful.”

Tony sighs from his place on the bench but keeps his eyes glued to the screen. He's trying to give them the best starting position possible, but since they don't have a tracker on the soldier he can't pinpoint his exact location.  
Agitation breaks out around them, agents who previously sat on the side are using their phones or access protocols, and someone goes to the front and talks to the pilots.  Nat and Sharon share a look, none of them knowing what's up, but it's clear that something important happened.

“What's wrong?”, Sharon asks, but nobody responds. They're all busy with the news, apparently too busy to involve their own team.

“Sam texted”, Clint informs them. It's the first thing he has said in hours, so the women give him a rather surprised glance.

“You’ve been texting with Sam all this time?”, Sharon asks with a raised brow, to which he rolls his eyes.

“I was on Reddit. Anyway, Cap is on the run.”

Tony looks up from his StarkPad with raised brows, staring at Clint.

“He’s what now?”

“According to Sam he got mad about Wanda’s babysitting job and just left”, Clint shrugs. “He took the stairs down from his floor, that’s kind of impressive.”

“And S.H.I.E.L.D. is looking for him?”, Sharon continues with a concerned expression. “He won’t do anything stupid, right?”

“I think he’s good”, Natasha replies. She casually takes her suit out of a closet and begins to pull it on over her tank top and leggings, confusing Clint and Sharon with her calmness.

“I’m with Romanoff”, Tony decides as he shuts off his tablet and gives the agents around them a sign to continue. “If he wanted to follow us, he would have taken a quinjet. He won’t run back into S.H.I.E.L.D.’s arms, and he knows a conventional plane would take even longer. What else could he do? He’s probably just pissed he got a babysitter.”

The quinjet has tilted slightly downward, they will land in the next minutes, time to get ready. 

“Come on, gear up”, Natasha ushers as she puts her earpiece in. “We have more important stuff to do. Steve has always been driven by his emotions, they should just let him roam the city in my opinion.”

Clint and Sharon share a glance, silently wondering what to do. He eventually shrugs and gets up to grab his vest and quiver. Sharon sighs but gets up to follow the team, there's nothing they can do about Steve right now, and Natasha is right. They have an assignment, and they need to focus.

________________________________

They swarm out in teams after landing in a forest by the Saskatchewan River. Each of them has teamed up with another S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and they now roam the streets, block for block. Tony is their eyes up high, scanning streets and buildings and giving them tips on suspicious behaviour while the ground crew inspects every inch of the area.  
Tony has to be careful, the Soldier knows they're after him, and chances are he knows about Ironman and his association too. Tony hates to operate slow and sneaky like this, but he has good motivation to do so. Pepper has been more in touch with Coulson lately, and she will definitely whoop his ass if S.H.I.E.L.D. tells her he messed up such an important mission.  
And he also doesn't want to have to look Steve in the eyes after coming home empty handed. The poor guy has been through enough, even on Tony’s scale.  So he flies around quietly, higher than usual, peeking around corners of buildings before continuing his route.

“You should consider using that invisibility software you designed, Sir”, Jarvis suggests after a few people have looked up at the sky, probably after seeing Tony’s suit in the corner of their eyes.

“It’s not perfect yet, Jarv”,Tony grimaces. He's let that project slide, the suits are cool and took effort to build, and he likes to show them off. But the AI is right, he has to upgrade them for stealth missions like this one.

“Tony, anything yet?”, Natasha asks through the comms. This is the third time, and it's getting frustrating. How long have they been out here? Thirty minutes maybe, and nothing yet. Tony isn't even close to being as patient as Natasha, he needs action. 

“Sorry”, he simply replies and shakes his head in the helmet, even though she can't see it. “I’m doing what I can, the guy’s good.”

“Or gone.”

“Impossible”, he snorts, “we checked every source we could reach. He has to be somewhere around here. We have six teams plus me, this should be over sooner rather than later.”

“Let’s hope you’re right”, Natasha sighs. She speaks quietly, probably focused on keeping a low profile. 

Tony flies around another corner and keeps the suit still in the shadow of the building, focusing on the people down below. There are a lot of them, too many to observe with the bare eye even if he was close enough to make out faces.

“Jarvis, run the recognition software and zoom in”, he orders. The AI obeys, tiny numbers pop up in the corner of his eye as the computer progresses pictures of the people, approximates their height, weight and age and compares it to what they know about Bucky.

“How long are we gonna do this”, Tony growls to himself when nothing happens. The zoom only shows the people from above, so even the AI can't recognize every face. There are millions of people in this city, and they have to find one. A trained assassin and spy. The deadly needle in a haystack. Awesome.

“Sir, I have a 94% match”, Jarvis informs him after a few more minutes. Tony stops in his tracks, he had been flying through the streets again.

“Where?”

“Ten blocks behind your current destination. Sending surveillance footage to your suit now.”

Tony informs the team on his way back, watching the footage that plays in front of his eyes. He barely sees his face under the hair and the hoodie, but the build fits the Soldier. 

“Any eyes on him yet?”, he asks once he reaches the right street.

“I am almost there”, Natasha replies.

“Good. What’s the plan?”

“Put Clint on the roof just in case, then take the other side for backup. Sharon and I will approach him, the other agents hide in the crowd to help if he wants to escape. No shooting. The maximum is sedating him, but that’s the last straw, We want him to trust us”, she warns. Tony has found her during her speech, she's making her way through the crowd like a fish through water. People seem to just give her space, but without the staring that usually follows Steve or himself. It must be her dangerous aura. 

“This is becoming a habit, Legolas”, he murmurs as he picks Clint up as discreetly as possible, and then flies him up to the roof.    
“How am I supposed to do this sneakily? The whole point was to stay up high!”

“Just go with it, we almost have him”, Clint shrugs and takes his position on the corner of the building’s roof, thus ending the conversation. Tony sighs dramatically but does as he's told and flies to a building on the other side of the street, closer to Natasha’s position. He ducks as best as he can and uses the camera zoom to assess the situation. He sees the two women heading up the sidewalk, and he spots four of the nine agents in the crowd. The others are doing a better job.

He only notices the Winter Soldier because the women slow down and change their entire body language towards him. He seems so average from above that Tony is sure they have the wrong guy at first.  
They greet him politely, explaining once more who they are and why they are there. The guy stops and seems to listen, but he keeps a distance and reacts to every tiny movement of the two agents in front of him.  It seems to go well though, they step closer and keep trying to convince him to come along and get the help he needs, and so far he stays. In Tony's mind, that's a win. 

Sharon makes a mistake by reaching to her side, probably to prop her hand against her waist, but it must look like she is reaching for a gun from the guy's perspective.  The Soldier leaps into her direction, then tackles her to the ground with more force than necessary, too fast for her to react. He jumps at Natasha next, who manages to wrestle him down for a second. She’s good, Tony thinks, she has a solid chance.

“Romanoff, need help?”, Tony asks, readying his blasters. He hates standing by, but he trusts Natasha and her skill. If she thinks she's got this, he will stay put. 

“Stay down”, an agent calls, and he sees them swarm towards the situation from their previous positions.  The Soldier notices them too, he throws Nat into two of them and turns around to knock out another one with one punch of his metal fist. If it wasn't his friends being brutally beaten up, Tony would be impressed. Whatever is in that arm, it's damn good. It perfectly compliments the fighting skill of the Soldier and turns him into a great weapon. A human weapon.He shudders at the thought. 

“I’m ready if you need me”, Clint states from his position, bow drawn. He's still as a statue, but Tony knows his fingers are itching with the wish to let go, to help his girlfriend. 

“Shit”, Natasha cusses through the comms, “you have to. I messed up. This is going to get us into trouble when he wakes up, but we have no choice." She sounds remorseful. "He’s got five agents already.”

Tony waits for the arrow to fly, then he follows it down to the street. Passersby are staring or taking pictures. Some are getting too close for comfort, so Tony raises the volume on his suit and orders them to back off. They do, forming a large circle around the scene, but most people still keep watching.   
As soon as he's on the ground, Tony takes in the situation. Sharon and Natasha are helping up the injured agents while the fit ones surround the body of the Soldier, checking his vitals. They secure his wrists with some kind of  reinforced handcuffs , Tony will have to examine those later for personal reasons. He can probably build better ones. 

“This guy’s huge”, Tony murmurs before turning to his teammates.  
“Everyone alright?”

“My pride is hurt”, Sharon grimaces, “ but otherwise good. Two of the boys are unconscious, can you take them back?”

“I should open a taxi service”, Tony mutters but grabs the first agent, heaves him up until he's got him in a bridal style grip and then makes a beeline for the quinjet while the others keep their eyes on the Soldier.

In a few hours they will definitely know whether he's really the guy Steve thinks he is. And if he turns out to be Bucky Barnes? Tony has no idea what that information might bring, but it worries him. 

_________________________

The sun is low on the horizon when Steve grabs his phone from his pocket with a sigh. He's been in Brooklyn all day, visiting places that remind him of home, of...Bucky.  
Now he's sitting by the docks, watching the sun set behind the skyline. His anxiety can no longer be suppressed. They have to be home by now. Steve has to admit to himself that no matter how long he waits, the outcome will stay the same. He should just get it over with, maybe they even have good news for him. 

The phone rings for only two seconds before Sam picks up.

“Hey man, you alright?” His voice is warm, only a little bit strained. Remorse washes over Steve immediately. 

“Yeah...sorry, did you get into trouble?”

He gets up, takes a deep breath to prepare himself mentally and then begins his way home.

“A bit. I told them to leave you alone, that we can trust you to lay low.”

A sad little chuckle crosses Steve’s face. He owes Sam a lot, he feels like a strain on their friendship lately. The guy has never been anything but good to him, and Steve thanks him by getting him in trouble. 

“Thank you. I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

It's silent for a few seconds. It's suffocating, and Steve wants Sam to say something, tell him something, but he's also afraid of  _ what _ he might say. He doesn't want bad news.

“The DNA test matched, Steve. When will you be home?”

“Five minutes”, Steve breathes, heart jumping in ten different directions, already jogging down the street. He should have taken his motorcycle, but there wasn't time in the morning. He will just have to run one last time today.

____________________

He stumbles through the elevator doors when they open, desperate to reach the common room as fast as possible. Five pairs of eyes meet his, and he stops in his tracks.  They don't look happy.  
They look concerned.

“Hey pal”, Clint breaks the ice with a tired smile, patting the couch beside him. Steve looks over to Nat and Tony, who are analyzing him, and then Wanda and Sam, whose eyes are filled to the brink with compassion. Steve swallows, his throat is very dry all of a sudden.

“What?”, he manages to say before he sinks into the cushions next to Clint.

“We got him”, Tony explains, “but it didn’t go as smoothly as we hoped it would.”

“Meaning?”

“I had to sedate him”, Clint chimes in, “he took out some agents. He’s in the hospital under S.H.I.E.L.D. supervision, and they’re checking him up.”

Oh god. How bad is it going to be?

“Bruce is over there”, Nat explains softly, “so we get updates now and then. For now they can only check his vitals and external stuff Hydra has-", she stops and bites her tongue before she continues, "...he’s fine so far. They confirmed his identity, it’s really Barnes.“

Steve takes a deep breath and forces his hands to stop shaking in his lap. Bucky is fine. He's alive, that’s what counts. 

“Can I see him?”

They look at each other and shrug when nobody says anything.

“Nobody said you couldn’t. But they keep him in artificial coma for now. I can take you over so Bruce can talk you through it”, Natasha offers. Steve just nods with a tight smile. 

________________________

“It’s right down the hall. I know it looks like solitary confinement, but they just wanted to keep him away from everything distracting at first. You saw him on the missions, he’s a mess mentally from what we can-”

“Bruce”, Natasha interrupts him firmly, “we’re here for the  _ good  _ news.” She slides an arm around Steve’s and squeezes a little. Although he tries his best to appear calm, Steve is sure she feels his discomfort. She really is his best friend, he can count on her in situations like this.

“Oh...yeah, sorry Steve." Bruce clears his throat and fixes his glasses before he continues. 

"So we keep him asleep for now, to take care of his body first so he’s healthy when we get to his mind. They, um, they are running some tests on the way but I promise I have an eye on that.”

Steve just feels tired. 

They walk down a long corridor with blinding white walls and headache-inducing mint linoleum for what feels like ages. How large is this hospital? Bruce keeps talking about Bucky’s state, what they found and what they’ll do, but Steve barely listens. If everything goes right they will wake him up in three days, and then they can see the state of his brain. If he's confused, or traumatized, or actually injured. The thought makes his stomach turn.

“Here we are”, Bruce says quietly as they stop in front of a large white door. He leads them into an observation room with a giant one-sided mirror on the right, a few chairs on the left. It’s tiny, only meant to contain a few people at a time. The mirror - or from this side, the window - shows a hospital room with a bed in the middle, surrounded by machines and people.  He feels Nat rub his arm soothingly, but it doesn't help much. The sight is...something.

Bucky’s face, once full and soft and glowing, is now harsh and rough. Age and malnourishment have made his bone structure more prominent, and his chin is covered in stubble. There are several scars on his head and shoulders from what Steve can see, and there’s no saying how much more is hidden by the covers.His hair is longer too, greasy and unkept, so unlike him. He’s got bandages and bandaids all over him, there are tubes connected to his nose and the back of his flesh hand.  
And of course there’s the metal arm. Steve only sees the top of it, the shoulder part, but the scarring makes him want to vomit. It must’ve hurt so much.

“Steve? Are you with us?”

He nods with a shaky exhale. 

“That’s, um…”

He flexes his jaw to keep from grimacing, to keep his stupid tears behind his eyelids. Crying won’t help either him or Bucky right now, it would just make his friends uncomfortable, that’s what he tells himself.

“I imagine”, Bruce says softly. “Unfortunately I can’t predict what will happen on Tuesday, but we will do our best. Wanda will come in and help with her powers. “

“We really want him to be fine Steve, this is not just about the intel he can share”, Nat adds.

Not  _ just _ , huh.

"Just keep me updated, please", he whispers. Steve is overcome by the urge to curl into a ball under his covers and sleep. He doesn’t want to keep up his strong facade, the character that is Cap. Because that’s what Cap is, a role that Steve plays.  Natasha is one of the few people who've seen through him from the start, she understands. She knows his soul, and prefers Steve to Cap. He loves her for it, because most people don’t. Most people want to see only Cap.  
She escorts him to the car while Bruce stays behind. Steve's steps are heavy and slow, not the energized strut he usually has. Natasha doesn’t say anything, she just matches her pace to his and entwines their arms. She shows affection through actions rather than words, he knows that. He understands what she conveys and squeezes her arm lightly in response. Natasha is clever and caring yet discreet and respectful, and that's another reason why he counts her his friend. She’s nice to be around.  
When they reach the car she hesitates to start it. Steve is about to ask about it when she reaches out and lays a hand on his knee, squeezing lightly. 

"Steve I…I've lost people, I've gotten people back, but this situation is a different caliber, even to me."  She frowns, searching for the right words.  "I don't know what will happen, I don't know what's going on in your brain and heart. I can tell a little, but…"   
She sighs and shakes her head, making her red hair dance along her shoulders.  
"Just, whatever happens, know I'm there for you, okay?" 

"Natasha-", he begins with a deep sigh. He doesn’t need this conversation now.

"I'm serious. If you want to talk, reminisce, be distracted or just need a shoulder to cry on, I'm here. You know I can keep secrets." 

They look at each other for a second, her eyes soft, his sad. Then he nods slowly. She means it, he knows that. He can trust her, and he can share his heart with her whenever he wants to.

"Okay. Thank you." 

She opens her mouth again, but then shuts it without saying what she meant to say. Instead she starts the car and drives towards the tower.   
Steve lets his head drop against the window, eyes up towards the higher buildings, the neon lights against the night sky. He doesn’t know what the morning will bring. It doesn’t necessarily scare him, or maybe his exhaustion just swallows the anxiety, he just feels an uneasiness low in his stomach. A restlessness. He wants to know whether Bucky is okay or not, because then he will be able to get active. Waiting is not his thing. He’s a soldier, a fighter. Bucky’s the sniper. Bucky is patiently healing this very second, waiting to be strong enough to be woken up. Until then, Steve wil practise patience. He owes him that. 


	8. Everybody's gonna let You Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve visits Bucky in the hospital and talks to him. And he meets someone new during a non-Avengers task.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyho, long time no see!
> 
> I hope you're all doing fine! Thank you so much for the feedback and nice comments you gave me, I'm really happy about each one :)  
> This chapter is a bit longer, and it's a bit angsty, but we end with something cute. A little surprise cameo that might evolve into a supporting role ;)

Steve is woken up by the sound of his phone ringing on the nightstand. He groans and blindly swats his hand in the general direction of the sound. After three tries he finds it and looks at the display: Natasha. He checks the time in the upper corner before he taps the green button and raises the phone to his ear. 

“It’s four a.m.”, he croaks into the microphone instead of a greeting. He isn’t too worried about the reason she’s calling, if it was something really bad he’d be woken up by Jarvis with an info dump instead.

“You sound awfully chipper, old man”, she hums back into his ear. “I kind of expected you to be on a run or something, but you sound like you literally just woke up. Where are you?”

Steve sighs and presses his left cheek back into the pillow while the hand with the phone rests on the right.

“Bed”, he mumbles and closes his eyes again. She’s right, usually he’s an early bird, a habit born from nightmares, PTSD and months of sleeping in shifts in the war. He’s blessed enough to have slept through peacefully, perhaps the universe didn’t want him to have both a good and a long night's sleep. Nevertheless he feels his thoughts slow, his body melts back into the warmth of the bed and pictures show up in his head.

“Steve? Hey, don’t fall asleep on me!”, his friend calls through the speaker. It’s loud and uncomfortable and pulls Steve away from his dreams again. 

“What d’you want?”, he groans sleepily. He’s not in the mood for her games, and when she starts a playful reply he just hangs up on her and puts the phone back on the nightstand before curling back up again.

He’s in a cornfield, surrounded by miles of gold. The blue sky doesn’t hold a single cloud, and the sun is shining at just the right angle at his easel and the canvas in front of him. He hums an old song as he raises his paintbrush to add a few poppies to his painting, red little dots in a sea of gold. It’s beautiful, yet so simple. It’s quiet, only a soft breeze comes and goes, but he’s alone in this place, yet not lonely. Steve feels content.  
Someone pats his back, but when he turns around, nobody is there. Confused, he turns again, but as far as he can see there’s nothing but grain.

“Hello?”, he tries, softly but not cowardly. He feels the pat again, this time the world starts to fade.

“There you go”, Natasha hums behind him in the same cheerful tone she had earlier. Earlier? Steve opens his eyes and groans again. He must have fallen back asleep briefly, and Nat had apparently decided to come into his bedroom.

“The fuck are you doing here?”, he asks and turns around to look into her smiling face. She must have turned the light on when she came, because it’s still dark outside. Because it’s still night time, basically.  
“Does Clint know you sneak into teammates’ bedrooms at night?”    
He doesn’t want to be mean, but her stupid smirk and the fact that she woke him up justify a little tease.

She chuckles and gives his messy hair a playful tug before she straightens up and opens his wardrobe.

“Don’t get grumpy, your bestie just woke up. Hop in the shower, we should get over there sooner rather than later if you want to see him before all the tests”, she explains while thoroughly investigating his tops. Judging by the grimace  she’s not pleased with what she sees, but Steve couldn’t care less.   


Bucky is awake.

“I don’t understand”, he croaks and sits up on his mattress, “I thought he was meant to stay under until monday?”

“Plans change”, she shrugs and tosses a grey sweater and dark blue jeans in his direction, “Bruce said he healed faster than expected. They want to start healing the rest as soon as possible, so we’re taking Wanda over to join the team.” She turns around and tilts her head, raises her brows at him and points at the door.

“Start moving or I’ll leave you behind, I’m serious!”

In a matter of seconds Steve is out of his bedroom and in the shower. He had imagined this moment, receiving the news. He thought he'd be anxious and think a million thoughts at a time, but that's not the case.  He's comfortably numb. His brain is quiet for once. Maybe it's self preservation, he thinks as he hastily scrubs his body with shampoo, maybe it's to protect himself from getting hurt. 

Because although he wants Bucky back, the real Bucky, he'll deal with  _ every  _ possible outcome. Because if Bucky is awake, that's a win already. He's here. Alive. In the same city as Steve. 

  
That's a win already. 

  
_______________

He's silent on the drive to the hospital. Wanda and Natasha are quietly talking in the front, while Steve is squeezed in the backseat, gazing out the window. His brain is fully awake now, though still dull and quiet.   
The only thing circling around in there is a picture of Bucky from decades ago. 

The door opens and he looks up to find Wanda's face, a soft smile on her lips. Her hand slides around his and gives a gentle squeeze before she tugs lightly. He climbs out of the car and lets her hold his hand as they follow Natasha out of the large underground garage. They take the elevator to the floor they keep Bucky on, and when the door opens Bruce is awaiting them with a little smile. 

"Good morning", he greets the trio. He's in a lab coat, blending in perfectly with the medical staff. 

"We already briefed him, so he knows where and, uh,  _ when _ he is", Bruce informs them as they start to walk down the long corridor. Steve stays quiet, but listens attentively. So far Bruce's body language, breathing and heartbeat are normal, so everything must be fine. He relaxes a bit. 

"He also knows our intention now and at least believes that we want to heal him, but I think he's sceptical about what happens after that." 

"He's not the only one", Steve murmurs loud enough for them to hear. It's true, he only knows they want Bucky to confirm intel on Hydra.  Will they let him go afterwards? Recruit him maybe? Send him to prison?

Nat and Bruce exchange a glance Steve can't decipher. 

"Um…anyway, I know we said there would be no testing before you got here-" 

"What did you do?", Steve interrupts a bit more harshly than intended. 

"You promised", Nat agrees, much calmer and sophisticated, raising a brow at their friend and teammate. 

Bruce raises his hands and stops at the door that leads to Bucky's room.

"We just needed to check his basic brain functions and how he reacts to people. So we could talk to him safely. It was just two scans, I promise!" 

With an apologetic expression he lowers his hands again and opens the door to the little surveillance room. Steve isn’t convinced that ‘just’ is the appropriate word here, but he lets it slide and enters the room instead.

His heart skips a beat when he looks through the one way mirror. 

Bucky is half-sitting in his hospital bed, awake and seemingly sane. A doctor is adding something to an IV connected to Bucky's wrist, Steve hears him explaining something about painkillers. Bucky nods. A nurse is on his other side, also talking to him about pain and medications. Steve doesn't care. He's fixed on Bucky. He replies, quietly and only in single words, but he does. 

Steve's heart starts to beat again and hope spreads through his chest. 

"Can I talk to him?", he asks breathless, eyes never leaving Bucky. 

“I don’t know Steve”, Bruce replies warily, “he’s been here one night, we shouldn’t overwhelm him. He’s already on edge with all the medical staff around-”

“Just a minute”, Steve pleads, “I just want to...just a minute Bruce, please.”   
He knows his face shows his inner tumult, and he allows it for now. Maybe it’ll help convince him. He just wants a reaction from Bucky, to know he can see him, and to find out whether he remembers him.

"We can try. I can't promise he'll recognize you though", Bruce sighs eventually. He opens the door and sticks his head in to tell Bucky he has a visitor.  Steve watches as Bucky turns his head, eyes narrowed and his posture defensive. His poor heart aches as he realizes that Bucky is probably used to people marching in to hurt him, make him forget and rewire his brain.  The stiff little nod yanks Steve back into reality, and he swiftly moves over to Bruce who stops him with a spread hand to his chest, looks up with raised brows and strict eyes. 

"Slow movements. Don't reach for him, your pockets or the machines. Don't get too close. Level your voice. He needs to feel safe, okay? Don't startle him", he warns. Steve swallows an annoyed answer and nods instead. Bruce steps aside and there it is, the open door, the way to Bucky. His Bucky. 

He takes a deep breath and walks through it into the room. Behind him the door clicks shut.  Bucky's eyes are scanning him head to toe, so Steve stands still and lets him. He will let him assess the situation first. But talking is fine, right? 

"Hey", he rasps, because suddenly his voice is weak and small and quiet. And his heart is beating at a million miles an hour. 

Bucky twitches, then frowns, but remains still. 

"I know you just woke up", Steve continues quietly, "this must be a lot. But I had to see you." 

Bucky's face smooths for a second, and the completely blank expression is terrifying to Steve, even more than the murderous one he'd seen on the helicarrier during their fight.   
But then the emotions return to his face. He grimaces as if he's in pain, then raw, fiery anger fills up his eyes. Steve watches as Bucky bares his teeth, now looking at him as if he was the cause of all pain and evil in the world.  He opens his mouth and spits out a single word. 

" _ You _ ." 

Steve's blood freezes in his veins and his tortured heart drops into his stomach. This is not a good start. But it gets worse. 

"I was meant to kill you", Bucky growls, leaning towards Steve, "I was punished for failing. I was punished for remembering you, and then they took my memory-" 

He's tearing up, and Steve feels the same happening to him. Each word is a slap to the face and a stab to his heart. 

"I know, I'm so sorry, but they will never-" 

"They hurt me." 

The last sentence is said so quietly, there's so much pain in his voice that Steve feels tears run down his cheeks. He will take Hydra apart for this, slowly, making them feel what they made Bucky feel. It’s tearing him apart to see him like this, hurt and vulnerable, no sign of the cocky boy he loved so much.

"They will never hurt you again", he whispers and takes a step forward. Steve just now notices the doctor and nurse by Bucky's bed again, both tensed and ready to intervene. 

"Bucky, I can-" 

"My name is James", Bucky replies and sags back into his pillow, visibly exhausted. "That's what the papers say. And I want you to leave now." 

Steve sniffles, he feels pathetic. He knows he is, but he would give up his dignity to be with Bucky just a little longer. 

"No, please", he murmurs, "I can help you remember." 

Bucky turns his head, stares him right in the eyes and replies: "I said  _ leave _ ." 

Steve swallows and blinks away more tears of disappointment and rejection, but he hears the door open behind him and turns to see Bruce. Judging by his pitiful expression Steve looks like a kicked puppy, so he takes what dignity he has left and strides out of the room, through the observation room and down the long corridor to where the elevators are.  Nobody is following him, he assumes that Nat is holding them back. But he knows her. She will wait until the afternoon maybe, then casually come in and capture him in a conversation about this. And before he knows, she will hear everything she wants to. So he has to prepare himself. 

__________________

As expected, Nat catches him in the common floor's kitchen when she’s returning. Steve is still re-running this morning's conversation in his head, the hate and pain in Bucky's eyes is burned into his memory and keeps torturing him. 

"Hey there", she hums as she reaches past him for the coffee pot and fills two mugs. Steve remains quiet. Nat leans back against the counter and tilts her head, takes a good look at him. Steve sighs and looks down. She's about to start her inquisition, and Steve is so tired of it. He wants to sit alone and think. Smiling and socializing is tiring lately. 

"I've talked to Sam", she begins. 

Huh. Not quite how expected this to go. Steve raises his head a tiny bit to look at her with big question marks in his eyes. She pulls her lips into a smile. 

"Of course I knew you've been down lately, I'm not blind. But he told me how he found you in between missions, and that he offered to connect you to his therapist." 

He nods slowly, sipping from his coffee mug to get out of a reply. 

"I made you an appointment for Monday." 

"Wh- Nat!", he exclaims indignantly and accidentally sprays coffee in her direction. "I can't." 

"You can and you will", she replies and wipes a drop of coffee off her hand with a disgusted expression. Then she looks at him intensely, in a way that captures Steve’s eyes and keeps them fixed on hers. 

"You are my best friend. I care about you, I hate to see you like this. There's nothing wrong with your head, you're just sick. Depressed, perhaps overwhelmed. Please just do this, okay? And talk to me, to us. About everything. All of us have lost people, we understand. We don't think you're weak for being sad, okay? Just stop secluding yourself."

Steve stares at her a second longer, touched by her words. She's right, he forgot how kind his friends are, that they have been through the same thing. Kind of. 

"I just don't want to bother anyone", he mumbles. Natasha rolls her eyes and shakes her head, "that's what friends are for! And therapists, in your case. Promise you'll go at least once, yeah?" 

He nods slowly, then reaches out to pull her into a hug. She lets him, and when he holds on a second longer she gently pats his bicep. 

"So", grins into her shoulder, "I'm your best friend?" 

"Clint is still my number one, don't flatter yourself." 

_______________

Monday comes quickly. 

Steve doesn’t go back to the hospital all weekend, he’s too hurt by Bucky’s words and behaviour. Bruce and Nat tried to tell him it’s the stress of not knowing who he really is, of all those new circumstances and the feeling of having no past, nothing to hold onto. Steve understands that so far, but he could give Bucky just that. He wants to be his rock, his beacon of hope, hold him and kiss him and tell him everything’s gonna be fine.   
Wanda found him last night, curled up on the couch with a sketchbook in his lap. She’d sat down with him and told him about Bucky’s process, what they did with him and how he behaved around the others. It was kind of her, really, and Steve appreciated it. He made her a batch of sugar cookies to thank her and apologise for making her trouble the week before.   
Then Clint found out about the cookies, and now Steve has added baking to his to-do list for today.

That’s the other reason he didn’t see Bucky again: he was busy. In between missions he’s already met with Midtown High’s principal a few times, and today they’ll start working on the campaigns they designed. Which means he’s about to spend his day with a bunch of teens, then rush through town to go to his appointment and after that bake some cookies and snacks for what is probably going to turn into a team night.

The dressing choices kept him busy for a few minutes too long, but he ended up deciding on a navy sweater over a white button-down, paired with brown slacks and boots.

  
Children surround him the second he enters.   
They knew he’s coming today, and they all seem beyond excited. Steve does his best to smile and greet and answer questions, but he’s more than relieved when the principal Mr. Davis rescues him by sending them back into their classrooms. The children leave them alone for now as he follows Mr. Davis into his office for a short talk. It’ll be easy: They will introduce the campaign together and then there’ll be time for questions and ideas. In the following weeks there’ll be a couple of workshops with Steve about teamwork, fairness, health and other topics. He doesn’t know as much as he should perhaps, Pepper deals with all the institutes working together for this, he just says what he does or doesn’t want to do and gets to work with the kids.  
They go over the event together one last time to make sure they’re on the same page before they head over to the gym. The tier of seats on the side is full of sophomore highschoolers whose heads turn the second the door falls shut behind them. Two Hundred And Fifty sets of eyes focus on Steve intensely, and the tumult that had died a second ago starts over twice as loud. He feels a little bit of uneasiness creep up his neck, he usually has no trouble speaking in front of audiences but it’s still pressuring to know everyone is expecting him to  _ be  _ a certain way. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, calm down. I’d like to introduce our guest”, principal Davis calls out. It takes a few seconds, but eventually the excited kids stop giggling and pointing and only a few hushed whispers can be heard. Mr. Davis half turns to Steve and holds out his hand in his direction.

“As most of you probably know, this is Mr. Steve Rogers, our very own Captain America”, he introduces. Steve gives the crowd a polite smile as they applaud, a reaction he’s never really understood. What are they applauding for, the fact that he made it here? That he has that title? His name, maybe? It’s nonsense.

“Mr. Rogers is part of a new campaign about encouraging more fairness, kindness, and good work ethics in highschool. Midtown High has the honour to be chosen as the first school to try it in”, he explains with a proud smile, “and if everything goes well, it’ll be implemented nationwide to improve every student’s highschool experience.”

There’s some more applause, a little less enthusiastic this time. Mr.Davis doesn’t mind, he just goes on with his introduction.   
“Now I’m gonna give the floor to Mr. Rogers so he can explain the whole procedure himself.”

Steve gives him a silent nod and a smile, takes a deep breath and turns to the kids.

“I want to start with a few questions, if you don’t mind”, he begins calmly. This is all well thought-out and rehearsed, Steve has never been good at those kinds of speeches naturally. But he’s well prepared.  
  
“Who in here has homework due today that they plan on finishing in the break later?”

Children look at each other insecurely, confirming whether everyone’s going to participate, he knows this behaviour. Always trying to blend in, afraid of sticking out. After a few heartbeats, a good amount of hands go up and heads turn to see them.

“Thank you. Now tell me, who has felt overwhelmed this semester, wondering just how they’re gonna stay on top of their classes?”

More hands shoot up this time, faster than before.

“Have you ever tried to have your parents let you stay home for the day because you wanted to avoid somebody?”   
Less hands, but still a good amount, though raised much more shyly.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not treated the same way or have the same foundation to build on as your classmates?”

Again, a good amount of hands. In the corner of his eye Steve sees the principal wring his hands behind his back, and he shifts in his stance. 

“I could continue this for ages, but I hope you see where I’m going with this. Right now there is a lot of pressure put on you. You have to do homework, work on projects, study for tests and take the first steps to plan your future after school. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that often ends in after-school activities being dropped, hobbies being neglected and friends not being seen as much outside of school.”   
Steve nods his head at the approval from the crowd, and he folds his hands in front of his body as he continues.

“That already puts enough stress on you. Now if you don’t really learn how to manage your time,if you’re discouraged, if you struggle to make enough time for studying ‘cause you need to help out your family or if someone just decides to make your life a living hell on top of that, the stress can be overwhelming. We all know that, and there are people who’re thinking night and day about how to make this easier for you without cutting the curriculum.”

Steve is pleased to notice that the crowd is now completely silent, only a shuffle or a cough now and then, but their eyes and ears are fixed on him.

“Several institutes and state governments have come together to create a campaign that’s meant to teach you exactly how to deal with all those things, how to gain control and thus maintain a great GPA while also having enough free time to do what makes you happy. It’s tested in cooperation with you guys, and if you and your teachers think it works well, it’s going to be implemented into the curriculum in as many schools as possible.”

He goes on to explain how it works and what exactly they’re going to do, and the principal shows a powerpoint presentation to underline and visualise what Steve says.

The kids listen surprisingly attentively, but after roughly an hour Steve’s relieved to finish his presentation. He says a few nice words before Mr.Davis lets them go into their break. Within a minute the gym is empty, and Steve follows them out.

He liked it more than he had thought he would, he was a little bit anxious that they wouldn’t take him seriously. But apparently Captain America is still cool with the kids, and now that he’s got the first introduction over with he’s even a little bit excited.

As he walks along the street on his way to his therapy appointment - her office is only a few blocks away and he still has ten minutes until he has to be there - he hears fast footsteps approach behind him.

“Mr- Mr Rogers, Sir!”, someone calls and a second later a young boy jogs up next to him. He’s wearing a hoodie with a sketch of an atomic model, his curly brown hair is sticking out in every direction and he’s a little red from running.

“Hello there”, Steve smiles and stops in his tracks to look at the boy in front of him.  
“Can I help you?”

“No, uh, yes- I’m one of the sophomores from the campaign introduction? Um, anyways, I wanted to know if we have to sign up for the workshops or if they’re limited? Oh, I’m Peter by the way. Parker. Peter Parker”, he pants, and a blush forms on his nose.

Steve grins and shakes his head, the boy is a prime example of the kind of pressure they’re trying to work against.

“Nice to meet you Peter. There’s no need for any of that, we’re working with all of you. Me and some teachers are going to come into your classes one by one so there aren’t too many people in one workshop”, he explains calmly. “No need to worry.”

Peter exhales with a smile and his tensed shoulders visibly sag with relief.

“Ok, cool. Thank you. I’m looking forward to that, you’re really cool”, he gushes, “like - I mean you’re Captain America, which is like, wow, but you also seem really nice and smart and I’m really excited for those workshops! Uh, sorry, I’m being over the top, right? I, um, I have to get going anyway, so sorry for talking so much, but thanks for the clarification!”

“No worries”, Steve chuckles in reply, “I’m glad you like it. I’ll see you someday next week.”

With that he turns and continues to walk down the street, but Peter keeps walking next to him. 

“Oh, you go in the same direction? That’s a bit awkward”, Peter states and hooks his thumbs under the straps of his backpack. “My bus stop is in that direction, yours too?”

“No”, Steve says, shaking his head, “I’m walking. “

“To Avengers tower?”

“Uh...no”, he replies, a little uncomfortable. He doesn’t want to tell anyone he goes to therapy, especially not a stranger.

“Sorry, that’s none of my business”, Peter apologises,”I’m just really curious what it’s like. I wanna go sometime soon, but I wish I could look into the labs too. And like, meet people too.”

Steve chuckles lightly, “yeah? Who’s your favourite?”

“Tony Stark!”, Peter exclaims excitedly. “Ironman is cool and all, but mister Stark’s research and inventions are so awesome! I wanna be like him someday, when I’m done with school. I’m the top of my class in physics and math, I’m taking an engineering elective and I’m on the decathlon team. And you know, Midtown’s obviously a science and technology school, so I hope that all helps me get where I want to be. ”

Steve looks over at this young, bright-eyed boy fondly. So many hopes and dreams are cumulating in him, and there’s so much untouched potential. Steve remembers being like this, in a different world, when there were less opportunities. He wants to help him, give him a chance to chase those dreams.

An idea forms in his mind.

“You should apply for an internship.”

Peter’s head snaps around violently, and his eyes are as big as saucers as he stares at Steve.

“Really? I didn’t even know he was looking! You really think I have a chance?”

“Ah, well”, Steve begins, now a little less sure of his idea, because yes - Tony hadn’t exactly said he needed an intern, but he’d dropped it jokingly in a conversation a few weeks ago, and wasn’t that worth a try?

“I mean I can’t promise it, but you seem really bright and Tony is really busy, so try it! I will mention you to him and you could call or email his - whoever is in charge of that, and if you’re lucky you’ll get to be an intern.”

“You’d do that for me?”, the boy asks softly, and he looks like a tiny little fawn as he looks up at him. Oh lord, what has Steve gotten himself into now? He has to get Tony to accept him somehow, there’s no way he could look into Peter’s face and tell him bad news.

“Yes Peter. I’ll do that.”

“You’re so cool, Mr. Rogers, thank you!”, he beams before he stops abruptly and looks across the street where a bus is slowly coming to a stop.

“Uuuuh I need to get on that one, sorry! Thank you so, so much again, and see you next week”, he calls as he sprints across the street, jumping between cars on his way to the bus. 

With a shake of his head and a chuckle Steve continues his path on the sidewalk on the way to his therapy appointment. What a bundle of chaotic energy. He really looks forward to working with this one.


End file.
